Roolz:: Things A Lab Rat is Not Allowed To Do
by A Rhea King
Summary: After his 'luminol incident' Greg starts a list of things lab rats shouldn't do. Strange how things like that develop a life of their own...
1. Hazing

**CSI: Crime Scene Investigators**  
**Things Lab Rats Are No Longer Allowed To Do**  
**By A. Rhea King**

1) Hazing

* * *

Author's Note: Just like the franchise, spin-offs happened. If you like this one, you should also check out _Roolz:: CSI and Lab Rat NoNo's (CSI:NY)_, and _Roolz:: Lab Rat Do-No-Morez (CSI:Miami)_. Even if neither are your favorite show, they'll give you a chuckle!!

* * *

Greg had only been working with the LVPD CSI for three months when he heard about it. Hodges and Archie, huddled over a table in the garage, were talking about it and didn't hear him come up behind them.

"You're kidding?" Hodges asked Archie.

"No. It was right there. Plain as day."

"I wonder who wrote that. Does Ecklie know?"

"If Ecklie had any clue about half the stuff on that wall we'd all be down there painting it."

Hodges chuckled, and then stopped when he noticed Greg standing there. Archie glanced at him, but kept working.

"Whatcha doing?" Greg asked.

The two didn't answer right away. He'd clearly walked in on a private conversation.

He was still the 'outsider' on a lot of things and the people didn't give him quite the trust he had been used to at Stanford. But he knew his job and he did it well, and as long as his supervisor was happy with that, he'd remain employed.

"We're trying to find bullets in—" Archie turned around, holding up sofa cushion batting. "This."

"Did someone murder a couch?"

"It's ugly enough they would have put it out of its misery, but no, the person sitting on it was murdered. Bullet wasn't in the wall or the person, so we have the couch." Archie motioned to the furniture that was the object of the conversation.

"Do you need any help? I don't have anything to do right now. Waiting for results and that's going to take at least an hour."

"Sure. Dig in," Hodges offered.

Greg walked around the table and picked up a pair of gloves.

"Oh, and watch out for the syringes."

"What?"

"The couch came from a crack house," Hodges informed him with an air of arrogance.

Greg just smiled. He wondered if someday he'd get to introduce him to Peter. Peter's arrogance would put Hodge's to shame, so Hodge's arrogance was actually refreshing.

The three continued carefully tearing through the batting. Greg looked up when Bobby came in. The southerner was the ballistics expert and Greg found he really enjoyed listening to his stories about "back home."

"Hey, did you see that line about Ecklie?" Bobby asked.

Archie didn't answer. Hodges shot him a cold, dark look. Bobby looked from one to the other.

Greg waited for someone to say something, but when it became clear no one was, he decided to ask, "What line?"

Bobby stared at him. "You didn't see it?"

"See it where?"

"He doesn't know about the wall, Bobby," Archie told him.

"And he hasn't been here long enough to know about it," Hodges added.

"He's been here four months."

"Three," all three corrected him.

"Oh… Since when was there a time limit on employment for the wall?"

"Since someone wrote that thing about… Catherine," Archie answered. "Don't you remember?"

"It's still there."

"I scribbled it out."

"Still can read it."

"What thing about Catherine?" Greg asked.

"We should show him the wall," Bobby insisted.

"No!" Archie and Hodges answered in unison.

Bobby didn't look happy with the overruling decision. Greg wasn't either. Now he wanted to know where this wall was and what was written about Catherine and Ecklie.

"Six months. Not a day sooner. Go shoot something," Hodges told him.

"I don't have an ballistics to work on right now. What are you guys doing?"

"Looking for bullets in a couch." Archie motioned to the couch.

Bobby made a face when he looked at the hideous thing. "Someone shot the couch? That was justice."

"No. Someone shot someone sitting on the couch and we're looking for the bullets."

Bobby put on a pair of gloves and grabbed a cushion. "Think we'll get to burn this in the pit when they've finished with it?"

Archie laughed. "I think we should bug Grissom into letting us. The last one was interesting."

"What happened?" Greg asked.

"It was a velvet covered chair that burned green for ten minutes, then purple, then normal," Hodges answered. "It had a lot of meth on it."

Greg laughed. "You guys burn furniture?"

"Only furniture they can't store in evidence and are done with."

"When does this happen?"

Hodges smiled. "After Grissom leaves for his next call in twenty minutes. We have a great recliner."

"Where did it come from?" Greg asked.

"A dealer's house," the three answered.

Hodges looked him in the eye, "And they stashed cannabis in the cushions."

"Are you guys planning on standing close while it burns?"

The three didn't answer. Greg took that as a yes.

"Wouldn't that constitute as getting smashed on the job?" Greg asked.

Hodges silenced him with a stern look. "We can't leave potential evidence unattended. We have to make sure it's fully disposed of. Not our fault if we happen to be down wind when it happens."

"Right!"

"See. He'd be trustworthy. We should show him the wall," Bobby said.

"Enough about the wall!" Hodges said.

"What wall?" someone else asked.

The four looked up. Grissom was standing in the door.

"What?" Hodges asked.

"What wall are you four talking about?"

Greg was silent because he didn't know what wall. But he knew the others did and they were silent because clearly Grissom didn't know about the wall either.

"Pink Floyd," Greg answered.

Grissom was confused.

"Pink Floyd's album The Wall."

"I don't listen to Pink Floyd."

"It's great album and--"

"Enough about the wall!" Hodges repeated.

Greg looked down at his cushion, smiling. Hodges was playing right along like he'd hoped. Maybe that would gain him early access to this secret wall.

"Greg, have you finished up the DNA results."

"Just waiting for the egg timer, so another forty minutes or so."

"Egg timer?"

Greg dug out a digital timer shaped like an egg out of his pocket and held it up for Grissom to see. "When it dings, the DNA will be cooked."

Grissom's expression told Greg he wasn't really sure what to make of the witty come back. So he simply told him, "Call me when the test is complete. Watch out for syringes in that couch."

Grissom left and the four were silent for several minutes.

"He should get to see the wall now," Bobby said. "He covered for us and he doesn't even know what we're talking about."

Hodges looked sidelong at Greg. "Fine. We finish this, then we will see the wall. And if you tell anyone, we'll get you fired before sunrise."

Greg almost smiled, realizing that the threat was probably empty and meaningless. Seeing the wall was obviously coveted by these men, so he resisted out of respect. Not to mention, he really, really wanted to see this wall now..

#

Greg came around the corner to find the three waiting by the elevator. He glanced at Gina who held his gaze as he passed. Hodges pressed the elevator button.

The elevator doors opened when the car came and the four got on. Greg turned and found Gina still staring at him.

"One word, Sanders, and you'll be on the next plane back to California," Gina threatened him as the doors closed. "We don't joke about that!"

"She knows about this wall?" Greg asked.

"You are about to be inducted into the lab rats world, Greg," Hodges told him. "And you are not allowed to speak of anything you see to any CSI or anyone who might otherwise perceive the wall as a threat. Gina is a lab rat by the sheer fact she is an overlooked and underappreciated asset to this lab – like all good lab rats."

"Threat? What kind of threat?"

"You'll see," Archie told him.

Greg glanced at him. On second thought, maybe this wall wasn't so important after all. He considered saying something to that effect, but the doors opened and Bobby and Archie were herding him off behind Hodges. Down the hall Robbins and Warrick were talking.

"Smile and say hi, nothing more," Archie quietly told Greg.

Greg obeyed. The two acknowledged them, but didn't really pay much attention.

"Are we supposed to be down here?" Greg asked when he was sure they were out of earshot.

"We do sometimes come down here. We have a freezer down here in the morgue."

They turned a corner, leading away from the morgue and deeper into the bowels of the police department. They stopped a door with a keycard and Hodges swiped his card. No. It wasn't his card. Greg saw the card was completely different than his keycard. He didn't ask about it, not yet, not until eh saw this wall and could decide if it was worth it. They entered the room beyond. It was filled of floor to ceiling shelves filled with boxes. The front was brightly lit, but beyond that it some light bulbs were burned out. They turned left and started walking.

"The wall has been around for at least four or five decades," Hodges began. "It was around when Grissom and Ecklie were lab rats. It was around when I first started. It's like a yearbook for generations of lab rats. You can learn a lot about this place and people."

"But Grissom didn't seem to know about it," Greg said.

"Before I found it, I don't think many people knew about it," Archie said.

"_You_ found it?" Greg asked.

"Yeah. There was a flood down here and we needed evidence from a box that had film in it. Catherine asked me to take a look at it and see what I could do. Thing was, she grabbed the wrong box, so I had to go looking for it. I kinda got turned around and ended up at the wall. She thought I had drowned I was gone so long."

Greg smiled. Archie talking peaked his interest in it again.

The floor dipped slightly and they turned down the last aisle of racks. The lights were dimmer as they went to the back. At the very back, almost hidden by overstuffed filing cabinets, was a dark door. There was a small space to squeeze between the wall and the filing cabinets. Hodges stopped at the filing cabinet and opened the bottom drawer, pulling out a box of chalk from the back. He squeezed thought the space and went through the door. Archie went in, followed by Greg and Bobby. Hodges flicked on the light and Greg was glad he went with Archie's description to cushion his surprise.

The room was a large conference room with a water damaged table and four chairs in the middle. The furniture and most of the walls, ceiling and floor were scribbled with writing. Some were initialed, some dated, but very few had both. The writing included poetry, quotes, lyrics, gossip, to jokes. There was some information even about cases, unsubstantiated theories mostly.

Greg turned when something cool was pressed in his hand. Bobby smiled, letting go of the chalk when Greg took it.

"First time here, write something."

"What if we get caught?" Greg asked. He knew this was vandalism.

Across the room Hodges had picked a piece of wall to start writing. Archie was sitting in a chair, doodling on the table.

"They won't find this place," Archie said, looking up at him. "Only six of us even know it's here. Including you."

"Who's the sixth person?" Greg asked.

The men went back to their writing with out answering. Greg looked at the chalk, then the walls. He walked over to a corner and with a grin, began writing a few lines of Pink Floyd's 'Brick in the Wall.' It seemed fitting.


	2. Meeting the Sixth

2) Meeting the Sixth

Greg snuck past the hallway to the morgue and silently jogged down the hall to the door. He dug out a keycard from his back pocket and swiped it. On his six month anniversary and Hodges had bestowed it on him, finally. It was a keycard that was activated under an alias so that no one could ever track the card back to Greg. The lab rat secret society didn't seem to collapse when he'd been promoted to CSI, and for that he was actually glad. There was something comforting about coming to the room to write about things he couldn't talk about to anyone else. He wondered if the others ever read what he wrote, then with horror, hoped they didn't. If they did, though, they never mentioned it to him.

Greg turned down the second row and hurried to the end. He liked this route better since Catherine had caught him in here once as he walked the long path to the end. He still didn't think she believed his 'I got lost and the door was open' lie. Going this way made it easier to hide if he heard anyone come into the room

Today he really needed to let off some steam. He had spent most of the morning – time when he was usually sleeping – sitting in court of the Demetrius James trial. The kid's parents were never going to believe their son would have killed Greg – but then, they didn't see his eyes or expression that night, either. He knew the kid would have left him beaten to death if he hadn't hit him. He needed to get his opinions about the matter off his chest, and the wall was waiting to listen to him tell it about those opinions.

Greg stopped and got a piece of chalk from the drawer, then slipped into the crack. He stopped, staring at the door that was open a few inches. Who was in the room? Archie was gone for the week, Hodges was busy, Gina was at her desk when he left, and Bobby was away at a conference. So who… The sixth person? No one had ever told him who that person was, and after a while he just stopped asking. It didn't really matter anyway.

Greg continued into the room and stepped around the door. Sara's head jerked up and the two stared at each other. Sara's hand froze on the cartoonish character she was drawing on the end of the table. Greg could only stare.

"You must be the sixth person I was told about," Sara said.

Greg smiled, closing the door. "Ditto."

Sara smiled. "I don't think we should tell them. They seem to enjoy that I don't know who it is."

"Okay. We won't tell them."

Sara went back to her doodle.

"When did you find out?"

"Three months after I got here. I think Hodges thought it might get him a date."

"Did it?"

She laughed. Greg smiled.

"You?"

"Three months too." Greg walked over to an open spot, lifting his hand to start writing.

"Why?"

Greg turned. She was watching him.

"Why… What?"

"Why did they tell you? They seem pretty set on keeping this place a secret."

"I lied to Grissom. They were talking about it and I made up a bit of a lie about what they were talking about."

"Not a big lie then?"

"Not really."

She looked back down. "I haven't even told Grissom about this place."

Greg turned to start writing and stopped. He turned to her.

"Why would you?"

"Hm?"

"Why would you tell Grissom about this place?"

Sara's hand stopped moving but she didn't take her eyes off the table. She slowly looked up at him, smiling an embarrassed smile.

"I don't know why I would."

Greg stared at her. She was lying, but he wasn't going to pursue it. If he let her have her secrets, then he figured she'd leave him with his.

"Yeah. Why would you?"

Without another word, the two turned back to their projects. Greg was about done writing when he felt her behind him. He turned, finding her reading what he wrote. He quickly moved in front of it.

"Oh… I'm sorry. I thought… Sorry."

Greg looked at his hands. They were coated in chalk. It was so white against his tan skin. Greg slowly moved aside.

"Are you sure?" she quietly asked.

He nodded.

So she read what he'd written and when she finished, she didn't say anything. She turned and walked over to the table, picking up her coat and chalk. She walked to the door and stopped.

"Over in the corner, there's a gossip you should read. It'll make sense after what I said earlier." Sara motioned toward the corner before looking back at him. "And it wasn't your fault, Greg. You had to stop them, you had to stop him."

Greg nodded.

"Greg."

He looked up at her.

"Sometimes… You just have to react. Not very often, but sometimes. Sometimes, out there in the streets, we're not very different than soldiers. We have to make a fast decision; we have to decide who dies to save ourselves or other people. It doesn't happen often, but sometimes. Don't beat yourself up, Greg. You did what you had to survive and safe the victim. You did good."

Greg nodded.

Sara left him. Greg looked at the corner. He walked over to it and started reading. His eyes stopped on: SS + GG Forever, encircled in a heart. Greg smiled. He knew a secret that no one else did. That was awesome! Greg gave his chalk a toss before he headed for the door.


	3. The Thing About Luminol

3) The Thing About Luminol and First Impressions…

The lesson had been a harsh and swift one that had cost him respect. He'd wanted to impress the reporter because, well, she was cute, and he'd hoped for a date. He did get the date, but at the cost of some respect. He hadn't known that too much luminol on blood would ruin it, because he'd never wanted it to glow bright before that day. It had gotten him in trouble with pretty much everyone in the lab – save the lab rats. Even Bobby had heard what he'd done, and he just told him it was something he'd never forget. Got that right! Grissom wasn't prone to yelling and he didn't ever want Grissom yelling at him again.

Greg stared at the writing on the walls as he contemplated that. He had lost his appetite for lunch and decided hiding was safer than being where people would see him. His eyes were drawn to a wide bare spot half way up the wall. Greg hopped off the table and grabbed a chair. He sat it next to the wall and climbed onto it. At the top of the wall he wrote in capital letters:

**THINGS LAB RATS ARE NO LONGER ALLOWED TO DO**

Underneath it he wrote:

* * *

**1. While pretty glowing blood trace is pretty and glowing, there is such a thing as too much luminol.**

**2. If you want pretty glowing blood trace, don't make it pretty and glowing in a lab full of people.**

**3. And if you really want to make pretty glowing blood trace, don't be stupid enough to admit you made it pretty and glowing with too much luminol.**

* * *

Greg stepped off the chair, reading his writing. Strangely, putting it on the wall, made him feel better. Usually it did. He put the chair back and slipped out of the room.


	4. The EverGrowing List

4) The Ever-Growing List

Weeks had passed since his glowing blood trace incident and it had been busy. It was the first time he'd been able to return to The Wall. He was itching to add a couple lines of a song he'd heard earlier that week, something with a lot of angst.

Greg slipped into the room and flicked on the light switch. He looked for a spot but his eyes stopped at the list he'd begun earlier. Items had been added under his three. Greg walked over, reading the writing. He recognized all the handwriting, save one. He guessed that one was Gina's. Added to the list were:

* * *

**4. May no longer admit to a superior, no matter how calm he or she may normally be, that you don't know where you put the trace results. (**_**Hodge's handwriting.**_**)**

**5. Can't convince a rooky that you are in charge of the lab without knowing where the person who is **_**really**_** in charge is standing at the time. (**_**Hodge's handwriting.**_**)**

**6. Never admit to swing or graveyard that you have drunk the last Mountain Dew. (**_**Archie's handwriting.**_**)**

**7. Never tell your partner or superior how a victim looks like Carmen when he was shot. (**_**Sara's**__**handwriting. What!? When did she do that? he wondered.**_**)**

**8. Not allowed to blame medical and criminology misspellings on the Microsoft Dog™. (**_**Bobby's handwriting.**_**)**

**9. Not allowed to perform religious rights for deceased vermin caught in the line of fire. (**_**Archie's handwriting. What was that about? Greg wondered.**_**)**

**10. Not allowed to write and install applications on supervisor computers that do any of the following: warn him/her of a fake virus, give blue or black "screen of death", portrays an emergency firewall breech, or makes the computer continuously reboot. (**_**Archie's handwriting. He had far too much time on his hands.**_**)**

**11. Not allowed to write or install this application on ANY computer in the lab. (**_**Sara's handwriting.**_**)**

**12. Not allowed to compliment a man on his nice brass, even if it is exceptionally well formed in a certain type of tight Levis. (**_**Suspected Gina's handwriting. He was going to have to pry who she wrote that about.)**_

**13. May not replace a superior's camera card with a blank card as a practical joke. (**_**Sara's handwriting.**_**)**

**14. My name is CSI Sidle, not Princess ****Mononoke****. (**_**Sara? She watched Princess **__**Mononoke**__**? He learned something new about her every time he came in this room! Wait… When did she ever refer to herself as Princess **__**Mononoke **__**and where was he when that happened?**_**)**

* * *

Greg was laughing hard by the time he reached fourteen. He grabbed a chair and climbed up to add:

* * *

**15. Black magic is only allowed off duty.**

**16. Not allowed to make wanted posters of co-workers we wish would go away, even if they are a stupid under-sheriff.**

**17. Not allowed to form gothic bands with the DNA strands on the computer.**

**18. Not allowed to title any case file "Get Over It."**

**19. Never use the centrifuge to mix drinks.**

* * *

Greg stepped down and grabbed the chair. He sat the chair back down. It would be good incentive for the others to continue the list. Greg sat the piece of chalk on the seat and left. He would have to come back as soon as he could to see what else he would learn about his fellow wall writers.


	5. Comfort In Numbers

5) Comfort In Numbers

Greg wedged himself between the file cabinet and wall, slipping into the wall. He shut the door before turning on the lights – he'd heard Catherine and Grissom come in just as he reached the cabinets and had hoped he could get in before they saw or heard him. The door made an almost inaudible click. He flicked on the light and let out his breath. Greg walked over to the table and sat down in one of the chairs, putting his head in his hands.

It had been a hellacious last three days. Nick had been kidnapped and they had worked round the clock to find him. The funny thing about saving someone's life (or maybe not, depending on how you looked at it) was that mountains of paperwork followed. Greg rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands as he sat back. He looked up at the list, not expecting to see anything. It hadn't grown much since he'd added number eighteen months ago. So he was surprised to see writing on it. Greg got up and walked over to the chair. He picked up the chalk as he stepped up, reading the five new items on the list.

* * *

**20. Never joke about coffins when a co-worker is in one. (**_**Hodge's handwriting**_**.)**

**21. Never leave a CSI alone with the monitor when a co-worker is buried alive on screen. (**_**Archie's handwriting.**_**)**

**22. Never tell anyone you want him alive for the sole reason you never asked him out. (**_**Gina's handwriting.**_**)**

**23. Never let the other lab rats think they're the only ones having completely inappropriate thoughts during a crisis. (**_**Sara's handwriting.**_**)**

**24. Never, ever, tell the lab rats everything is going to be okay when you're not sure it is. (**_**Greg had never seen this handwriting before. Who was this seventh person?)**_

* * *

Greg realized they were getting their fears out on the wall, but he couldn't leave the list like this. The list was meant to be a fun way to vent frustrations of stupid things they'd done or management decisions, and it wasn't meant to be serious. So he leaned in and wrote:

* * *

**25. Not allowed to purchase anyone's soul on government time.**

**26. May not call any police officers immoral, untrustworthy, lying, or slime, even if you're right.**

**27. Never replace a co-workers rubber gloves with balloons.**

**28. Never lace a co-worker's pink fingerprint powder with cayenne pepper.**

**29. Never replace luminol with color changing strawberry Kool-aid.**

**30. Never ask a superior if he/she is smoking crack, **_**especially**_** in a crack house.**

* * *

Greg smiled, tapping the chalk hard against the brick to add the period. It wasn't much, but hopefully it would get some smiles.


	6. One Seventh

6) One Seventh

Greg hummed to the song on his MP3 player, oblivious to the ride to the basement. The doors opened and he turned, running into Grissom.

"Oh, sorry!" Greg said, stepping off.

Grissom didn't say anything in return. Greg turned to continue down the hall.

"Greg," Grissom called.

Greg turned; Grissom had his hand against the elevator door to keep it open. Greg pulled an earbud out.

"Yeah?"

"What are you doing?"

Greg's mind raced fast for a lie. "Just… Checking… On… Some evidence from the morgue."

"On which case?"

"I… Dunno. I was just told to get it."

"By who?"

What was with all these questions? Geeze! "Sara."

"She didn't say what case?"

"I didn't really think to ask."

Grissom nodded. He dug a box out of his pocket.

"Don't take too long. There's a couple cases I need you to review. Here. Catch."

Greg watched him toss the object through the air to him and was quick to catch it. He turned it over in his hand, staring at the cover. It was a box of chalk. Greg's head jerked up, but the doors had closed. Greg looked back at the box of chalk. He suddenly burst into a run, racing to the room. He burst in, flicking the light switch, half expecting the writing to be gone. But it wasn't. There wasn't anything changed or erased. But there was more added to the **THINGS LAB RATS ARE NO LONGER ALLOWED TO DO** list. Greg walked over to the wall, reading the two new items added to the list in the mystery handwriting that had added number twenty-three.

* * *

**31. Never trick a superior into believing Vaseline is acetate gel.**

**32. Never replace cocaine with baking powder to amuse co-workers.**

**33. Never use the break room microwave to test the "sparkality" of unknown substances.**

* * *

Greg turned when he heard someone come in, half expecting to find it was Grissom. Instead it was Gina and Archie. The two walked up, looking at the list.

"Did you write those?" Archie asked.

Greg shook his head.

"Who wrote those?"

"I…" Greg looked at the box of chalk he held. "I think Grissom did."

"What!?" the two screeched.

"You told him!?" Gina hissed.

"NO! I didn't tell him. I never said a word to him. But he gave me this box so he had to have known that we were out last week. I think that's his handwriting."

The three looked back up at the list.

"Maybe we should erase nineteen through twenty-three," Gina said.

"That would ruin the integrity of the list," Archie rebutted.

Greg shook his head. "We don't erase anything. Ever. Especially if Grissom knows and hasn't said anything." Greg handed Archie the box. "But I gotta go. Have cases to review."

"Good luck with that."

Greg headed for the door.

"And see if you can figure out if he really knows about this place," Gina added.

"No promises."

Greg closed the door behind him, slipping out of the room.

#

Reviewing cases meant a lot of reading and little talking. Greg sighed, looking out into the hall. Nothing exciting was happening out there, either.

"Greg," Grissom said.

He looked at him. "Yeah?"

"Did you use the spell checker on this document?"

"I dunno. Maybe."

"This is not how you spell tachycardiac."

"You want me to correct one word for a thirty page report?"

Grissom smiled. "No. One word can stay."

Greg smiled, even chuckled a little. Grissom looked up.

"What?"

"I was just thinking of something about the spell checker. It was nothing." Greg focused on the report in his lap.

He didn't notice Grissom staring at him, contemplating something. "Listening to animated dogs is never good," Grissom said.

Greg looked up. "What?"

"I said listening to animated dogs is never good."

Greg looked away. When he looked up back, Grissom was reading.

"Where did you hear that?" Greg asked.

"I read it somewhere."

Greg saw a golden opportunity to find out if Grissom did know about The Wall. "Where? Sounds like something I'd like to read."

"Somewhere around here. I think it was in the basement." Grissom looked over the top of his glasses with a knowing smile.

Greg smiled back. So he did know about The Wall and he wasn't going to do anything about it. Sometimes he was an amazingly cool supervisor.

"Damned animated dogs," Greg told him

Grissom chuckled and that amused Greg. It was rare that he educed a chuckle from Grissom.

"Who told you about it?"

"No one."

"Grissom, it's kinda secret and—"

"No one. A couple months ago I was looking for an old case file and saw the light on in the room. That's how I found it. You and your fellow vandals should be more careful with that, lest Ecklie or someone else finds it."

Greg didn't argue. Grissom wasn't prone to lying without a really good reason, and this wasn't one of those good reason times. The two went back to reading their reports. Greg couldn't concentrate though, because he realized now might be a good time to ask another question that had been burning.

So he came right out with it. "When did Sara think she was Princess Mononoke?"

Grissom only smiled and told him, "Have you heard the commercial, what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas?"

Greg smiled. "Yeah."

"If it's not written on The Wall, it is never told."

Greg laughed. He tried. Maybe he'd have to ask Sara someday.

"Touché." Greg went back to reading. But every once in a while he smiled as he pictured Grissom adding lines to the list, and realizing the hard to believe image wasn't unimaginable. He had to have the world's coolest supervisor!


	7. Rules 34 through 54

7) Rules 34 through 54

The men, Gina, and Sara sat staring at the list. It had been a long, hard shift for everyone, which was unusual for graveyard. Hodges was the first to suggest some quality group therapy when he passed Greg, telling him, "Pineapple."

And the secret word was passed among them. Greg was sure Grissom had heard him tell Sara, but he never acknowledged it. He had left after his shift, not once questioning why Sara was going to the basement with them.

"Anyone want a beer?" Bobby asked.

"We can't. We're on city property," Sara reminded them.

The men and Gina looked at her. She pretended not to notice at first, but it didn't take long for her to fold under the unspoken peer pressure.

"One. One beer. No more."

"Wait… Where are we getting the beer?" Greg asked.

"Grasshopper, do not question the ways of your sensei," Bobby told him.

He got up and left the room. He returned with a twelve pack and passed out the beers, then took his place between Gina and Hodges again. There was silence for a few minutes while they savored their beverage and stared at the list.

"We really need to add to the list," Sara said.

"Really, we do," Gina added.

"When was the last time anything was added?" Bobby asked.

"I think about three months ago."

"Well then," Bobby got up. "I'll be the first to add to it. I have the best completely unrelated line to add."

"What's that?" Greg asked.

Bobby just grinned at him. He moved a chair next to the wall, dug his chalk out of his pants pocket and climbed up on the chair. Underneath number thirty-three he wrote:

* * *

**34. Not allowed to get silicone breast implants.**

* * *

Bobby climbed down, and turned to them. It was hard for them to decide if they should stare at him or the line.

"You want to get breast implants?" Sara asked.

"No! I just thought it was a good line to add." Bobby turned to the list. "Something stupid."

Archie got up. "That's a stupid line. Mine's better."

Archie grabbed Bobby's chalk and climbed up on the chair to write:

* * *

**35. Not allowed to claim that "Pulp Fiction" is a criminalist educational video.**

* * *

"BOOOOO!" they jeered.

"That's lame!" Greg laughed. "Besides, you only got caught once like nine months ago or something." Greg swallowed a swig of beer.

Archie stepped down, holding out the chalk. "Fine. Someone else come up with something better."

Hodges got up and took the chalk. He added the line:

* * *

**36. Not allowed to add "In accordance with the prophecy..." to the end of answers I give to a question the mayor asks me.**

* * *

The line was met with great approval and clapping. Hodges did a slight bow.

"Thank you. Thank you. I try."

Sara got up, setting her beer on the table. She took the chalk and climbed up on the chair.

"Since we just had a case with this, this might work."

* * *

**37. Not allowed to join any militia.**

* * *

The room was silent. She turned to them.

"But I planned on forming a militia tonight," Bobby said. "You won't join it?"

They all started laughing. Greg jumped up, grabbing the chalk and stood on the chair with her.

"We have to cut him off at the pass, Sara." Greg told her as he wrote:

* * *

**38. Not allowed to form any militia.**

* * *

Sara was the only one that didn't boo him. Greg laughed, jumping off the chair. He looked up, at the door, right into Grissom's eyes, and his laughter stopped immediately. The others turned, staring at him. There was a long silence. Sara cleared her throat.

"I, uhm… I thought you left."

"I did. But then I had to come back. I have bad news though."

The bad news came through the door behind him in the form of Nick and Warrick.

"They called me back to let them in here to find files and we overheard you six in here," Grissom explained. "I'm afraid you'll have to let them join or risk being exposed."

"Wow," Nick said, looking around the room. "This room has been here this whole time and I never knew about it?"

Warrick didn't say anything, just stare.

"You weren't kidding, Grissom. This is… Cool!" Nick told him.

"You said cool?" Sara asked Grissom with a lazy grin.

He shrugged a little. "I think it was unintentional."

Warrick walked over to the group, staring at the list. "Things lab rats aren't allowed to do? Really?"

"Well, it's more like, you know, suggestions," Hodges said.

Warrick laughed.

Nick and Grissom joined them. Grissom suddenly grabbed the chalk from Greg and stepped up on the chair next to Sara.

"Excuse me," he said.

Greg noticed the smile and look they exchanged. It seemed to be a moment that the others didn't.

"Grissom, you write in here too?" Nick asked.

"Occasionally." Grissom leaned out, writing:

* * *

**39. Not allowed out of my office when the mayor, the under-sheriff, or tour groups are in the building. **

* * *

They all started laughing. Grissom stepped off and held out his hand to help Sara off.

"Oh. I just came up with some." Greg said, holding out his hand for the chalk.

Grissom handed it over and Greg jumped onto the chair. He wrote:

* * *

**40. Not allowed to train adopted stray dogs to "Sic Brass!"**

**41. Must get a haircut even if it tampers with my "Samson like powers."**

**42. May no longer perform the infamous "Snoopy Dance" at any crime scene.**

**43. Must not taunt the suspects.**

* * *

"What!? No more snoopy dances?" Warrick asked.

"I told him no more snoopy dance," Grissom admitted.

"But half the fun of working with the crazy rookie is the snoopy dance!"

"What dog did you teach to sic Brass?" Nick asked.

"Sorry. It's prohibited by the Griss." Greg answered. "And I didn't train a dog. Don't you remember last week that dog that the guy yelled Sic Brass and it tried to take a chunk out of his butt?"

"Oh yeah. Yeah I remember that. I still don't think he's able to sit down without leaning a little to the left."

They laughed.

"Speaking of my prohibiting. I do need to add one for you, Nick." Grissom took the chalk and added:

* * *

**44. May not antagonize suspected killers even after the scene is secured.**

* * *

Everyone booed as he stepped down.

"That's half the fun!" Nick laughed.

"Okay. Okay. Now that you _CSI_ have had some fun, it time for some lab rats to get back in here," Hodges said. He stepped up on the chair adding:

* * *

**45. Must never call a superior or co-worker something vulgar in British.**

* * *

They laughed and he stepped off, bowing. "Although, Ecklie seems to be pretty clueless to what exactly a wanker is."

They laughed. Greg stole the chalk from him. "You think that's bad? I found out how bad this one was. If Catherine was here, she'd tell you all the horror details." Greg started writing, then glanced back adding, "But since she's not, you'll never know what _really_ happened." He finished and stepped down, staring at his line:

* * *

**46. Never tell a German suspect, "We kicked your ass in World War 2!"**

* * *

"When was this?" Grissom asked.

Greg held up the chalk for someone to take. "If it is not written on the wall, it does not get told. Right?"

Grissom shook his head.

"Oh! I have one!" Nick cried, grabbing the chalk.

He jumped up on the chair and scribbled:

* * *

**47. Not allowed to wake a co-worker sleeping in the passenger or back seat by stopping the vehicle abruptly.**

* * *

"Oh come on! I didn't stop that fast!" Warrick rebutted.

Nick turned to him. "I had to wear my coffee the rest of the night because you decided to see if hitting the dash would wake me up."

"You were complaining it was cold anyway."

"And you think it wasn't cold with wet jeans?"

"Not to mention you looked like you'd peed your pants," Sara added.

"Hey! Don't encourage him, Sara Sidle!" Nick joked.

"Got another one," Greg said, holding up his hand.

He traded spots with Nick, writing:

* * *

**48. Not allowed to let sock puppets take responsibility for any of my actions.**

* * *

"Greg, I'm beginning to suspect you've done many things on the job that I really should know about," Grissom told him.

"Nonsense. Everything I do on the job that I shouldn't be doing is not meant for your ears."

"Like this one?" Warrick asked as he pulled the chalk from Greg's hand and stepped onto the chair. He added:

* * *

**49. Not allowed to let sock puppets take command of a crime scene.**

* * *

Warrick turned to him, telling him. "And if you ever, ever, expect me to take orders from our Captain Sock again, I will set Captain Sock on fire!"

"But Captain Sock is a really great supervisor," Greg rebutted.

Warrick stepped off, getting in Greg's face. "If you ever bring Captain Sock to a crime scene again, I'm going to introduce him to Under Sheriff Boot."

They all started laughing.

"You told me that sock was evidence!" Nick said to Greg, giving him a playful swat on the back of the head.

"It was. Captain Sock saw everything!"

"I doubt Captain Sock would make a credible witness," Sara told him.

"We could try."

"Speaking of evidence," Hodges said. "Chalk?"

Warrick handed it over.

Hodges stepped onto the chair and in capital letters added:

* * *

**50. NOT ALLOWED TO CHEW GUM RECOVERED FROM A DRUG-RELATED CRIME SCENE.**

**51. NOT ALLOWED TO CONSUME CANDY RECOVERED FROM A DRUG-RELATED CRIME SCENE**

* * *

"Would this be personal experience talking?" Grissom asked.

Hodges stepped down, lifting his eyebrows. "Maybe."

"So that explains a lot about that day."

"What day?"

"This one." Greg took the chalk and wrote:

* * *

**52. Can't have flashbacks to crime scenes I never participated in or investigated.**

* * *

They all looked at Hodges.

"I didn't know that the gum had hallucinogenic trace on it," Hodges admitted.

"Didn't your mom ever teach you not to eat things you don't know where they've been?" Nick scolded

"Yes. She did. But someone—" Hodges shot Archie a dark look. "Put it into my pack and I didn't notice the wrapper was different until I found myself telling Greg about a crime scene I'd never been to."

"We won't be doing that anymore, will we?" Grissom asked the two.

Archie smiled and shook his head. Greg knew that smile. He had no intention of keeping that promise, but it appeased Grissom for the moment.

"Oh! Got another one that Grissom told me I can't do." Greg turned and wrote:

* * *

**53. Not allowed to ask for the day off due to religious purposes, on the basis that the world is going to end, more than once.**

"What!?" Nick cried. "We can't take a day off for the end of the world anymore?"

"Man, I was going to ask next week, too," Bobby said.

"The world is going to end?" Sara asked.

"That's what my religious guide told me," Bobby told her

"When was that?" Warrick asked him.

"Second Tuesday of last week." Bobby answered.

They laughed.

"I got one." Nick stepped up on the chair. "Move. You're cramping my space, man."

Greg handed over the chalk and hopped off.

Nick leaned in to write, and then turned to the group. "And this is for Warrick. He gets a little loopy out there." He turned back and wrote:

* * *

**54. I do not have super-powers. **

* * *

Warrick booed while the others laughed. Nick jumped down, taking a bow. Warrick grabbed the chalk from his hand and climbed up, adding to the end: _Nor should I attempt to use them while working with any evidence._

He turned to Nick telling him, "Because you don't have x-ray vision or super human strength!"

"Sure I do." Nick pulled his sunglasses from his pocket and put them on. "Like right now I see that if you don't leave, Tina is going to cut you off tomorrow night."

Warrick looked at his watch. "Ah man!" He tossed the chalk to Greg. "Gotta go. See everyone tonight."

Warrick left.

The others reached for their beer, but stopped, all eyes turning to Grissom. He smiled, walking toward the door. "See everyone later. Just don't let anyone catch you leaving."

He closed the door behind him. Greg handed Nick a beer and they sat down on the table next to him. The CSI and lab rats men contemplated the list in silence.

Greg sighed. "Sometimes it would be nice to worry about getting home so my woman wouldn't cut me off."

Nick nodded. "Yeah. Sometimes. Then he and Tina get into a fight. I don't feel like I'm missing much."

"I hear that!" Hodges added.

All but Greg laughed. He looked at his beer bottle. The others fell silent, affected by his somber reaction to the joke.

Archie shrugged, adding, "But some people are ready for commitment before others. Nothing wrong with wanting a wife, Greg."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

They went to their silent contemplation.


	8. Exponential Growth

8) Exponential Growth

Catherine scrawled her signature across the report and slapped it on the pile at the edge of her desk. She fell back in her chair, happy to have those finished for at least tonight. She stood up and walked out into the hall. Grissom had sent the boys out on a call each and the lab techs were busy with work from day shift and evidence that had carried over from the night before. She strolled through the hall to Grissom's office, enjoying the silence. Sometimes it was nice to have everyone busy so she had time to think. It was a rare and short-lived time.

Catherine came around the corner and stared at Grissom. He was staring across his office with that blank expression she recognized as deep thought. Something had sparked that deep intellectual mind of his and he would be working on it for days, weeks even. Catherine stepped into the door, leaning against the doorframe.

"Hey," she said.

He looked at her. "Hi."

"I was going to go grab something. Did you want anything?"

Grissom looked out his windows into the lab, getting that expression again. She waited. He would answer if she just gave him some time.

"It's quiet tonight, isn't it?" Grissom asked.

"Kinda nice after the last three weeks."

Grissom nodded. "All the lab techs are busy, I take it."

"Yeah. Catching up. So about the food, do you want—"

Grissom looked at her. "Do you want to see something?"

Catherine's thoughts of food stopped. She smiled. "Sure."

She started toward his desk, but stopped when he got up and grabbed his keycard off his desk. He clipped it on a belt loop.

"Come with me," he said.

She followed him and he led her to the elevator.

"Going to lunch?" Gina asked.

"Yes," Grissom answered.

Catherine was confused now. "I thought we—"

Grissom stopped her by quickly answering, "I'll decide before we get to the car."

"What?"

"What I want to eat. I'll decide before we get to the car."

Catherine was baffled now. "Okay."

The elevator opened and he stepped on. She watched him tap the button for the first floor and then the one for the basement.

Grissom waited, watching the doors. When the elevator started descending he turned to her.

"You've worked here for almost thirteen years."

"I guess so. Why?"

"And all this time you've been to the basement several times, I imagine."

"Lots of times. The morgue's down there last I checked, Grissom."

He smiled, looking at the elevator doors when they opened. The security guards looked up at them. Catherine started to get off but he caught her arm, pulling her back.

"Not yet," he answered.

The doors closed and it started down again.

"What are you up to, Gil?"

"I want to show you something. Something I bet you never knew existed."

"That sounds scary."

"Not at all." The doors opened and they walked off.

She expected to turn toward the morgue, but Grissom took the opposite direction, heading toward the records room.

"Gil, where are we going? What did you want to show me?"

Grissom stopped and swiped his badge, waking into the basement.

"Do you believe that our job is stressful?"

"Yeah!"

"So do I."

"And so you're taking me to the basement because our job is stressful?"

"No. When I first saw this, I almost was angry. But then I noticed that this room has been around for at least thirty-three years. It's a piece of living history."

"What room?"

At the end Grissom turned to follow the last row to the back.

"They call it the wall."

"Who?"

"The lab techs and our CSI." Grissom stopped at a filing cabinet against the wall and crouched, pulling the last drawer almost out. She watched him retrieve a box of chalk from the bottom and take out two pieces of used chalk, then put it back and close the drawer. He handed her a piece.

"What's this for?"

"You'll see." Grissom started squeezing between the wall and filing cabinet toward a door almost hidden by the filing cabinet. Catherine followed, listening to him ramble on. "I've wanted to show you, but they're so protective of this place that I couldn't let them know. And I've seen it help them through some of the stress on the job, so I really don't want to let them think it's not their secret anymore."

Grissom opened the door and stepped through, flipping the light switch. Catherine slipped out of the tight space and started brushing off her clothes.

"Catherine, look."

She looked up as she brushed off her legs and her hands froze mid-motion. She slowly stood up and walked toward the table. Even slower she turned, taking in everything, and she smiled as Grissom came back into view.

"This is… Wow."

Grissom smiled, nodding. He walked across the room to a wall, motioning up at it. "This is the latest work."

Catherine joined him, staring at the list. "Have you written on this list too?"

"I have."

She looked at him, stunned. "You have?"

"Journaling is a very useful way of relieving stress. I see it as that."

Catherine looks to the right of the list, seeing the writing Sara had written. She looked back at Grissom.

"Did you journal when she left?" Catherine asked.

Grissom nodded. "I did. Back on that wall." He hiked his finger over his shoulder.

She turned, spotting his handwriting. She didn't read it though; she wasn't quite ready to know what he really felt about the situation. She turned to him.

"So we're standing in something of a time capsule, you might say?"

"I would definitely say that. The oldest writing is down here." Grissom led her down the wall to one of the writings. "This is the oldest. 1974. And not all of these are dated, so some of the writings could be even older."

"It's a piece of Las Vegas history."

Grissom nodded, looking around the room. "It was here before you and I were even here."

"And Ecklie?"

"Well, I wouldn't want to postulate. I could be off by a few ions."

Catherine laughed, surprised by the joke. "I have never heard you talk about him like that, Grissom!"

Grissom smiled. "That's why I added that last line up there." He went back to the list. "I'd never noticed how unique their handwritings were until I saw this list. I think the chalk and brick really brings it out because they write larger, with more pressure, than on paper."

"They? You mean 'we'? Aren't you part of that 'they'?"

Grissom nodded. "I suppose I am, aren't I?"

"So you can tell me who wrote what up here?"

"I can."

"Okay. I can already guess the first three are Greg's, because even I was pretty mad about the luminol incident. Who wrote four?"

Grissom started down the list, telling her who wrote each one, and if he knew, why.

#

Brass walked into Grissom's office. "Gil?" he called.

There was no answer. He turned, walking back into the hall. Archie was coming his way reading a folder.

"Have you seen Grissom?" Brass asked.

"Nope," Archie said without looking up.

"Are you sure?"

"Not since the shift started and he handed me an entire night of work."

Brass walked around to the reception. Gina typed at a blinding speed, her eyes glued to the scene.

"Gina, have you seen Grissom?" Brass asked.

She didn't even look up or break pace when she answered, "He and Catherine went to lunch."

Brass watched her for a moment. "Do you always type so fast?"

"Normally."

Brass turned and tapped the elevator button. The doors opened and he went to the first floor. Two security guards sat behind the front desk.

"Did either of you happen to speak to Grissom when he went through here?"

"He didn't go through here," one answered.

"I was just told he went to lunch."

"He went to the basement. That was…" The guard looked at his watch. "About an hour ago."

"Okay. Thank you."

Brass got back on the elevator and went to the basement. He strolled into the morgue. Robbins was lifting intestines from a corpse and Brass cringed. There were only a few some internals that just made his stomach turn – intestines were among those few.

"Have you seen Grissom?"

"Nope." Robbins turned and lowered the mass onto a tray on the scale.

"He didn't come in here?"

"No. Should he have?"

"I was told he came down here."

"Haven't seen or talked to him all night."

"Thank you." Brass left, happy to leave that mess behind him. This was unusual. Grissom always told someone where he was going when he left the building, and was not known to be late back from lunch. He saw David walk off the elevator carrying a stack of folders.

"Have you seen Grissom?" Brass asked.

"Not tonight."

"Jim," Robbins called from behind him.

He turned.

"Try records."

"Records? Why would he be in records?"

"I don't know, but they seem to be frequenting it a lot." Robbins pointed up to indicate the CSI upstairs.

"Thanks. I'll try there."

Brass headed down the hall to records – no, he liked to call it the second morgue. Once things went in that room, they rarely ever came out again. Brass fished his keycard from his pocket and swiped it, hearing someone running up behind him. He turned, finding David.

"Something wrong?" Brass asked.

"No. I just want to see why this place has been so popular this week."

"Popular?"

"Yeah. Lots of people have been in here lately. I don't have a keycard."

"It's just a room full of boxes with old and cold cases."

"I know, but there has to be some reason the CSI and lab techs keep coming down here. And they never leave with anything, either. Well, rarely."

Brass considered telling the young man 'no', but then he decided not to. Records was dark, large, and difficult to find someone in. He could use the help.

"Fine." Brass opened the door and walked in. He pointed to the right. "Start searching down there."

"Shouldn't we stay together?"

"Are you afraid of the dark?"

"No. I just thought…"

"Thought what?"

"I'll go right."

"Right." Brass turned left and started walking. He heard David walk in the opposite direction. Brass looked down each aisle as he passed. Most were well lit, but a few were almost too dark to see anything. He stopped short, listening. He heard someone talking. Starting walking he listened. The voice was getting closer as he neared the end of the aisles. He stopped at the end of the last row, staring at the opposite end, staring at the open door at the end of the dark aisle, made more obvious by the bright light coming out of the room. Had that door always been there? Why hadn't he noticed it before today? He'd come down here for years to get files but it was truly the first time he'd ever noticed the door. Probably had something to do with the old filing cabinets standing in front of it, camouflaging it from anyone who wasn't looking for it.

"Did you find him?" David called.

Brass looked back at him. He was walking towards him. Brass motioned him to be quiet, and then motioned him to come. David broke into a trot, stopping at Brass' side.

"Has that door always been there?" David asked in his regular voice.

"I don't know," Brass whispered. "And be quiet."

"Oh!" David whispered back. "Sorry. Do you think Grissom is in there?"

"Someone is. Follow me and be quiet."

David obeyed. The two quietly approached. As they drew nearer, Brass recognized Grissom's voice. He was reading something, it sounded like. Who was the person with him laughing? They were laughing awfully hard. Brass stopped at the filing cabinets and motioned to be quiet again. David nodded.

"So that's what the story is behind number fifty-four," Grissom finished.

"Well don't stop. You have another fourteen left."

The two men crept into the room and behind Catherine and Grissom. Brass took the room in at a quick glance. The writings were a little shocking, but finding these two in here reading a list titled: **THINGS LAB RATS ARE NO LONGER ALLOWED TO DO** was far more shocking. David, on the other hand, looked a little overwhelmed by everything he was seeing. Brass hoped he wouldn't make a sound because he wanted to find out more about what exactly this room was.

Grissom cleared his throat and read the next one:

* * *

**55. May not pretend to be a fascist Storm Trooper while on duty.**

* * *

"Greg wrote that, but I don't know what that is about."

Catherine grinned, "Oh I do. I didn't think my scoldings were sinking in, but apparently they are."

"Ah. Gina." Catherine said. "I know here handwriting anywhere. I guess something happened?"

* * *

**56. I am not authorized to fire anyone.**

* * *

"She fired a swing shift CSI because she felt he was being unreasonably rude. Ecklie told her she couldn't do that anymore."

Grissom laughed. "Looks like the next two are Bobby and Hodges. And I'm sure the story is good, whatever it is."

* * *

**57. C-4 is not to be used as modeling clay.**

**58. Modeling clay is not to be labeled C-4.**

* * *

Catherine nodded. "I bet a prank was involved somewhere in there." She laughed, reading the next one. "That's Nick's swirling S. He only writes it when he's two sheets past tired and about to drop.""

* * *

**59. My country is not Texas, nor is those other, forty-nine, lesser states.**

* * *

"Do you know what the story is?" Grissom asked.

"Yeah. It happened back when the team was separated. The case involved a couple of tourists from out of the country. The guy said we were discriminating because they were foreigners. Nick's retaliation was he was a foreigner from Texas. The guy asked where that country was. Nick told him south and east, small country, not a lot of people. I told him he wasn't allowed to claim Texas or any other state as a country anymore. But this next one he wrote, I don't know. Do you?"

* * *

**60. Not allowed to report on the radio '10-100, teddy bear down! 10-100, teddy bear down.'**

* * *

"Ten one hundred is using the restroom. I don't know what the teddy bear means," Grissom said.

Grissom thought about it. Brass knew the reason Nick had written it and knew he'd told Grissom about it. But apparently Grissom had let it slip his mind.

"We were at a scene when the shooter regained consciousness, got my sidearm, and started shooting again," Brass prompted.

The two turned. He waited a moment to see if they were going to ask him to leave, but apparently they weren't concerned he was there. So he continued.

"There was a kid on the scene?"

Grissom shook his head. "I don't recall this."

"Nick grabbed the kid and pulled him in the bathroom with us. The kid was freaking out about his teddy bear and I wasn't able to get anyone on my phone. Nick remembered he had his radio on him and that was the first thing that came out when he called for help. Then he remembered to say the right code. The dispatch supervisor sent the written reprimand. I gave it to you."

"Oh. I remember that now. I shredded it."

Brass smiled and Catherine giggled. It had been a stupid reprimand. They were in a stressful situation and as a CSI, Nick didn't usually use his radio to call for backup, so the mistake had been an innocent one.

David waggled a finger at the list. "What about the rest of these? What about them?"

Grissom and Catherine turned back to the list.

"Archie's the next one," Catherine said. "And I know why he wrote that. Remember the scene we processed where that guy had all those pirated foreign DVD's?" Catherine asked Grissom.

* * *

**61. The A/V lab is not to be used to 'pirate' movies or music even if the evidence brought in was originally pirated.**

* * *

"And you caught him making copies of the pirated movies," Grissom added. "Yes. I recall. I think he tried to tell you that by law he could make one copy as a backup?"

"Yeah. I had to remind him they were already backups made illegally and not to make anymore. What about this next one? I don't know what this is about."

The men stared at the next one, clueless as to what it was referring to:

* * *

**62. LVPD CSI is not "the supreme investigative team of the immediate century" and should not be referred to as such while attending a national conference.**

* * *

"I do not have any idea," Grissom said.

"It sounds like he probably shouldn't have said it anyway," David piped up.

They laughed. It did sound like Archie had gotten himself in trouble.

"Bobby came to me about this one," Catherine said, pointing at sixty-three. "I told him nicknames came with the job. Guess he found a way to solve it."

* * *

**63. Bobby is not the "Bang-bang Guy."**

**64. Greg is not "Psycho Joe."**

**65. Warrick is not "Hakim, Ein's kidnapper." (Who the hell is Hakim and Ein anyway?)**

* * *

"Psycho Joe and Hakim, Ein's kidnapper? What is that about?" Brass asked.

"Psycho Joe is a song by Blues Traveler. It's about a psycho-path that gets the chair and how corrupt society has become to enjoy such things. And the other is referencing this cartoon, no, anime series. Cowboy… Cowboy… I can't remember. You'd have to ask Greg. He's always teasing Warrick with it."

Catherine and Grissom looked at each other.

"Our guys need to get out more."

Grissom turned back to the list. "I'm not a coffee drinker, but I have seen our team when they don't get caffeine."

* * *

**66. Do not 'test' graveyard's ability to deal with stressful situations by switching the coffee to decaf.**

* * *

"Not pretty," Catherine added.

"They're more dangerous than the bad guys without the caffeine. So, Grissom, what's with this next one?"

* * *

**67. May not challenge anyone to "meet me on the field of honor at dawn."**

* * *

"Greg," Grissom, David, and Catherine answered together.

"What?"

"Greg likes to challenge people to meet him on the field of honor at dawn when they annoy him," David told him.

"What is that?"

"You've never watched Star Trek, have you?"

"No."

"I get this next one," Catherine said. "I get why our guys started using it, and I get why you put it there. Now."

* * *

**68. "Sparkality" is not a real word.**

* * *

Brass walked forward. "So how does this work? What do I write with here?"

Grissom handed him the chalk. Brass stepped on the chair against the wall and started writing:

* * *

**69. "Book 'em Danno! Murder one!" is not to be spoken until the suspect has not just left the floor, but the building.**

* * *

"Nick?" Catherine asked.

Brass stepped down, handing back the chalk.

"Since the first day he was a rookie. I finally just gave up and told him the suspect can't be anywhere he could possibly hear it."

Catherine and Grissom both chuckled.

"Can I write some? They're mostly morgue related though."

"The list is open," Catherine said, holding out her chalk.

David climbed up on the chair and wrote down his two contributions:

* * *

**70. Not allowed to sing "Who Are You?" by The Who when we can't identify a victim.**

**71. Must not use any vehicle, particularly the morgue vehicles, to **_**squish**_** things.**

* * *

"By squish you mean…" Grissom left off.

David stepped off, giving Catherine the chalk back.

"Sandwiches, usually. I saw it on a movie once and I can't do it anymore."

"And you're prone to singing 'Who Are You?'"

"Only when they first arrive. Well, now I have to wait until I'm alone, but yes."

Catherine got more of a laugh out of it then the men did. She stepped up on the chair, asking Grissom, "Do they usually listen to this list?"

"Have you seen sparkality in any reports the last week?"

"No." Catherine started writing.

* * *

**72. May not start any report with "I recently had an experience I just had to write you about….", "Dear Mom," "Dear Dad," or "To The Owner of Crimeville."**

* * *

"So I guess it serves a dual purpose – an unobtrusive means of reprimand without actual confrontation." David said.

"It does," Grissom agreed.

She stepped off the chair, and they stared at the contribution.

"Nick or Hodges?" Grissom asked.

"Both. And Greg seems to have been taught it too."

"Well, on that note I think we should get the mom and dad thing nipped in the bud too." Grissom climbed onto the chair and added:

* * *

**73. CSI Catherine Willows is not to be referred to as "Mom".**

**74. CSI Gil Grissom is not to be referred as "Dad".**

* * *

They laughed as they read his writing.

"Do they really call you two mom and dad?"

"It depends on how much coffee and lack of sleep they've had. There are degrees of severity involved," she admitted.

"I just thought of another one I'm not supposed to do." David said.

Grissom handed off the chalk. David wrote:

* * *

**75. May not wear gas mask or environmental suit when reporting to a crime scene that does not require one.**

* * *

"Doc Robbins didn't like your overly precautious measures?" Brass jabbed.

"No. He said I was only to use them if I was told to. Not very comfortable with that."

Catherine stifled her laughter. She told them, "I have a couple more come to mind. Especially with Greg's Storm Trooper comment."

Catherine stepped onto the chair and added:

* * *

**76. Police officers standing outside the crime tape are not Imperial Storm Troopers, so you should not tell them "You don't need to see my identification, these are not the droids you are looking for."**

**77. Not allowed to trade any item in my field kit equipment for "magic beans".**

* * *

"Who tried trading items for magic beans?" David asked.

"Nick," Grissom and Catherine answered.

"Nick? Really?"

"It was his first week on the job and some locals tricked him into trading his fingerprint dust for magic beans," Grissom answered. "And along the lines of magic beans."

* * *

**78. Not allowed to sell magic beans during duty hours.**

* * *

"He tried to sell them?"

"When he found out they were just plain pinto beans, yeah." Catherine answered. "Hey, while you're up there, there are a few things we should remind them not to say in front of certain people – like us, the mayor, and so on."

Grissom started writing and with Catherine's help added:

* * *

**79. The following words and phrases may not be used in the presence of any supervisor OR mayor OR witness OR tour group OR suspect OR press: necrophilia, I hate everyone involved with this case, the lab has a live bomb, sexual lubrication, black earth mother, all beat cops are latent homosexuals, Tantric yoga, gottadamit, Korean hooker, whores are found behind the strip, slut puppy, or any references to two-eyed demons.**

* * *

By the time he finished writing, they were laughing hard. Grissom climbed down, collecting himself before the others did.

Brass wiped his eyes, holding his hand out. "I have two more and then I gotta get back to work."

Grissom handed it over. Brass added:

* * *

**80. Must not tell any suspect holding a weapon that I am smarter than they are, especially if it's true.**

**81. No one is to be tasered to 'see them dance.'**

* * *

"Do I want to know?" Catherine asked.

"Seventy-three is just a life lesson. Seventy-four I was written up for, twice, when I was a patrolman.. It was funnier than hell though and my partner was asking for it!"

Their laughter died into silence. Catherine looked back at the spot where Sara had secretly professed her love. She turned.

"Well, I'm sure they've probably thought we were kidnapped. Better get back up there."

"I'll walk with you."

Brass watched them leave, and then looked back up at the list. He had a feeling he might have to add some more, but for now he was happy with his additions. He turned to David.

"Shut the door and turn off the light on the way out."

David nodded.

Brass left him to read the wall.

#

"Greg."

Greg slid to a stop, turning. Grissom motioned him into his office. Greg walked in.

"Shut the door," Grissom said.

Greg obeyed. "Did I do something wrong?"

Grissom looked up at him. "Not that I know of. Why?"

"Well… Just wondering."

"No. This is about your room."

"Room?"

"Sorry. The Wall."

"Oh. What about it?"

"I'm afraid it was discovered by Jim and David when I showed it to Catherine. I'm sorry, Greg. I know you guys wanted to keep it a secret."

Greg smiled. "Catherine knows?"

"Yes."

"Ah, well, it's okay if mom and dad know."

"Stop calling us mom and dad. It's on the list."

"What!? I'll have to invent new nicknames now."

"How about Catherine and Grissom?"

"Doesn't really capture your personality like mom and dad does."

Grissom shook his head. He wasn't really sure what Greg meant by that, but it wasn't really something he wanted to explore at this moment, either.

"Well, I'm meeting everyone at Frank's. You coming?" Greg asked.

"No. I have to finish up some work." Grissom turned back to his reports.

Greg looked at the reports on his desk. "Do you want some help?"

"No. Thank you."

Greg laid his hand on the door handle, but he didn't leave. Grissom looked up, waiting for him to leave or speak.

"I miss Sara," Greg said.

That was the last thing Grissom had expected to hear. "You do?"

Greg nodded, looking into the hall. "I could talk to her about anything. I thought she could talk to me about anything too. Guess…" Greg shrugged, adding softer, "Guess I lost my friend long before she left town."

Grissom sat his pen down, looking at the report under his hand. Seeing how hurt Greg was that she left like she had, made him realize he was not alone in his grief.

"Is she okay? I mean… Have you spoken to her? I haven't heard from her."

Grissom nodded. "She's visiting her mother."

"At least she's okay. Well… I guess she's okay. That's a loaded remark, isn't it?"

Grissom looked up again. Greg was still staring out the door.

"Why don't you call her?"

Greg slowly shook his head. "Naw. If she wanted to talk to me, she'd call. She needs time and I don't want to impose."

"Greg, I think she needs to know she has a friend that cares."

"She has you." Greg looked at him.

"Yes, but you're her friend. Call her."

Greg shook his head. "Just mention when you talk to her next time that she can call me when she's ready. I'd like to catch up."

"I'll do that."

Greg turned the door handle. Grissom suddenly stood, grabbing his coat.

"On second thought, I will join you."

Greg smiled.

"Should we take the same vehicle?"

"Sure. I'll drive," Greg offered.

The two left his office and walked to the elevator. Greg looked at him, quietly telling him, "I've been wanting to tell Catherine. I thought she'd get a kick out of it."

"She did."

"And Brass and David?"

"They contributed. I assume it amused them too."

The elevator opened and they stepped on.

"Good!" Greg said as he turned to face the door.

Grissom smiled, pleased that Greg was okay with this. As illogical as it may seem, the room seemed to have strange healing powers. Perhaps it was the energy of everyone that had been in it and let out their fears, worries, and joys that created a virtual salve for anyone who passed through that dark hidden door.


	9. Doctor Feelgood Meets The Wall

9) Doctor Feelgood, Meet Wall

David entered the morgue, searching for any movement. He walked over to Robbin's desk, stealthily reaching for the upper left desk drawer. He froze when he heard a noise and held his breath. He didn't hear anything else. David slowly pulled open the drawer and pawed through it. He found it suddenly and grabbed it, turned, and ran right into Doc Robbins.

David smiled, because there wasn't much else he could do. He'd just been caught red handed. Robbins looked down at the keycard David held, then back up at his face.

"David."

"Yes?"

"What are you doing with my keycard?"

"I… I need… To get something from records and you weren't around."

Robbins grabbed the card and tried to pull it away. David held onto the keycard like a golden ticket – but he was quick to realize that wasn't helping the situation. Robbins glared at him unblinking.

"I'm going to ask you again. What are you doing with my keycard?"

"I need to get into records. I don't have authorization on mine."

"Why do you need into records?"

"I need to get something from records.

"What do you need to get from records?"

"Ah… Paper."

"What paper?"

"I… Don't… Know."

"Who put you up to this?"

"No one. I just need in records."

Robbin's flipped his cane up like a cheerleader twirling a baton, and with a solid thump, landed the end against David's chest.

"What the hell is going on in there, David?"

"What?"

"Don't what me. I know something is going on in that room. I've worked here for twenty years and I have never seen this much traffic into that room. And it seems to be only the graveyard CSI. Now that I know you know something about what's happening, you're going to tell me."

"I can't," David answered quickly.

"You can and you will."

David waggled his head back and forth.

"Why can't you?"

"I… Promised."

"You promised who?"

David hesitated. "Grissom."

"Now I know you're lying. Grissom would never tell you to keep a secret from me."

"But he did! He said that he accidentally showed me, Catherine and Brass, and now the lab rats are angry with him." David suddenly realized what he'd just said. He slapped both hands over his mouth, muttering behind his hands, "That's not what I meant."

"You're going to tell me what's going on in that room, David, and you're going to tell me now."

David stubbornly shook his head.

"Yes. You are. Right now."

"No."

"Grissom didn't make you promise—"

"Yes he did!"

Robbins shook his head, starting to respond. He turned when the door open. Grissom and Catherine walked in.

"…once we get the autopsy, we can confirm if the wounds were inflicted by the attacker, or were defensive wounds. And…" Catherine's words died when she looked up.

Grissom had been reading the report as they came in. He looked up, staring at the two.

"Are we interrupting?" Catherine asked.

Robbins hobbled toward Grissom. "Did you tell David to keep a secret from me?"

"What?" Grissom asked.

"Did you tell him he couldn't tell me what the hell is going on in records?"

Catherine grimaced, closing her eyes. And the look on Grissom's face told Robbins the answer was yes.

"What is going on in records!?" Robbins bellowed.

"It's nothing illegal."

"Nothing illegal? I noticed you didn't say something about it being against employee or precinct policy."

"It doesn't _exactly_ break any policies," David piped up.

Grissom held up his hand. "I'll handle this, David." Grissom cautiously approached Robbins. He understood how angry Robbins was right now. "Albert, nothing illegal is happening in there, but—"

"Whatever is happening made most of the graveyard lab techs mad at you. I don't think I've heard one lab tech say anything nice about you in two weeks! What is going on in records, Gil?"

Grissom hesitated.

"Just show him, Gil," Catherine told him. "He's been here longer than any of us, I'm surprised he doesn't know about it. Besides, they're already mad at you. What difference will it make at this point?"

Grissom nodded, handing Catherine the report. "Very well. David, Catherine needs the autopsy report on Cynthia Byres."

"I wanted to add something."

"When you're done with the report you two can come over."

"Okay."

"Follow me, Albert." Grissom turned, leaving the morgue with Robbins following him.

David walked up. "I guess I should have gotten a keycard from you or Grissom."

"Yes, you should have. The autopsy report?"

David went to the counter and pulled out the report. The two walked over to the table the victim was on.

#

Grissom held the door open for Robbins and he entered the vast records room. Grissom walked toward the end.

"What is this all about?" Robbins asked. The short walk had given him time to calm down.

"It's something like free therapy."

"Therapy?"

"Yes. They can voice their worries and laugh. Laughter is the best medicine after all."

"What is it? What is in here?"

"It's not really something that a person can _tell_. You have to see it to understand."

Robbins didn't look too pleased with that answer, but he didn't try to argue. Grissom squeezed between the filing cabinet and wall to the door. It welcomed Grissom back with a soft click as it allowed him back in. Grissom flipped the light switch and turned, expecting Robbins to be behind him. Bu he wasn't. The coroner stood in the records room staring at him.

"You wanted to know; you have to come in to find out."

Robbins took a step forward and squeezed through the space into the room. He stepped into the room, slowly taking in the writings that surrounded him.

"How long has this been here?" Robbins asked.

"I estimate at least thirty years."

"I've been here twenty and I never knew this was here."

"You can imagine my surprise when I stumbled on it. Our own piece of Las Vegas history and at this time, only a very select group knows anything about it."

"This explains why records is so popular these days." Robbins walked over to one wall, reading the poem someone with the initials AZ had written in 1978.

"It does."

Robbins shook his head, moving to confession. "I guess I can see why your lab rats are angry with you. You don't have to tell them I know. We can keep it between the four of us."

"Don't speak so quickly. You haven't read the list. I don't think anyone who's been in here can leave without contributing to it."

Robbins turned. "What list?"

Grissom walked to the other end of the room, motioning to the wall. Robbins followed, looking up at the list. And immediately the humor of it took him over.

"Do you know what all these are about?"

"Most."

Robbins read several. He pointed at one of the newer ones asking, "Who is this about?

* * *

**82. "Keep on Trucking" is not an appropriate song for a victim that's been discovered in a hit and run.**

* * *

Grissom smile, letting out a slow breath. "My CSI rarely do anything they shouldn't. But every once in a while, they get it in their heads to do something that is, we'll say, questionable. It's a very close run as to who does more questionable actions at crime scenes: Nick or Greg. In this case, it was Nicky."

Robbins laughed. "Nick? Nick sang that song at a hit and run?"

"Not at the top of his lungs, but loud enough that Catherine had to get after him about it and enough of an offense, he felt it needed to be added to the list."

"And eighty-three?"

* * *

**83. I am not allowed to growl or hiss back at any pet found at a crime scene.**

* * *

"Greg found a newborn Cayman alligator that had gotten loose when the victim fell against it's aquarium and knocked it over. It hissed at him, he hissed back. We never found it again."

Robbins laughed. "So who does this one?"

* * *

**84. I am not allowed to demand of any civilian that is in the lab, "Take me to your leader!"**

* * *

"Hodges."

"I'm surprised he hasn't been fired yet."

"For as annoying or difficult as he can be, he is very good at his job. I'd rather suffer through his short-comings than let him go."

"Are you sure the rest of the lab techs feel the same?"

"I'm not certain. No one's ever said one way or the other."

Robbins pointed at the eighty-five. "I know who wrote that one and why."

* * *

**85. No matter how drunk I am at the time or "Here's what happened to my suit on the way here…" I still may not wear a dress to any LVPD function.**

* * *

"I'm surprised Nick was ever invited to the policeman's ball again after that. It was a sleeveless dress, wasn't it?"

"Yes. And he tried to convince me he was mugged. He was so drunk he couldn't even remember his last name or what city he was in."

"He almost got fired for that."

"Yes. I wasn't too sure he'd be okay after he was buried alive. Those first three weeks were very difficult for him."

"For all of us. He was so angry."

"He fought me about getting counseling."

"I heard several of those fights, remember?"

Grissom nodded. "But everything worked out in the end."

"So these next two are… Hodges again?"

* * *

**86. Never secretly record co-workers for ulterior motives, even if the motives are innocent.**

**87. I am not the atheist chaplain.**

* * *

Grissom looked back when he heard someone coming in. Catherine and David joined them.

"Oh. New stuff!" David said.

"Oh Hodges!" Catherine said. "He almost had that rookie convinced atheists had chaplains."

They chuckled.

"The next one is Warrick's writing. What was the issue with proselytizing?"

* * *

**88. No proselytizing on city time.**

* * *

"He was the one that caught Hodges trying to convince the rookie he was an atheist chaplain." She answered. "Seems we have a religious theme going on here."

"We do have a lot of mice in ballistics, for some reason," David admitted.

* * *

**89. Crucifying mice, even if they have overrun a lab, is always a bad idea.**

* * *

"I'm glad someone finally made Bobby take those mice crucifix down. That was just gross!" Catherine said. "Have any of you seen this one Gina wrote?"

* * *

**90. You may not perform religious ceremonies on dead items found at the back of the refrigerator.**

* * *

"No, but I'm sure it was hilarious," Robbins said with a warm chuckle. "You're right, Grissom, this is a therapy room."

"There's no more room on this list. Where should I put mine?" David asked, holding up his chalk.

"Find an empty spot and start writing," Catherine told him.

David walked over to a wall and wrote:

* * *

**91. You may not perform religious ceremonies for dead pets at a crime scene.**

* * *

"Who did that?" Catherine asked.

David turned with a wide gin. "You're never going to believe me."

"Nick?"

"Warrick."

The answer even made Grissom chuckle.

"Warrick?" she asked.

"He was bouncing off the walls that night. I dunno what was going on. But he started saying a prayer over a pet that had been caught in the crossfire. It was actually a little freaky."

"He has been acting a little too happy. Guess things are going good at home."

"Alright. I have to add two," Robbins said.

David handed over his chalk. Robbins walked to an empty spot and added:

* * *

**92. The medical examiner's name is 'Doctor Robbins', not 'Dr. Feelgood.'**

**93. "Alice does not live here anymore," does not need to be said every time you see a corpse named Alice, especially when seeing it multiple times in one day.**

* * *

"You're not Doctor Feelgood?" Catherine teased.

"No." Robbins answered sharply.

She laughed.

"So," Grissom began, "When you call me back for the autopsy of Alice Keeler, I shouldn't comment that Alice doesn't live here anymore?"

"Not if you don't want to try and read my chicken scratch handwriting."

"You take all the fun out of dead people," Catherine jabbed.

"Dead people can be lots of fun without annoying the coroner." Robbins started for the door. "I won't mention anything to the lab rats, Grissom. Maybe they won't notice I was here. Come on David, we have a full house tonight."

David hurried to catch up. Catherine and Grissom stared at the list.

"What are you thinking?" Catherine asked.

"I was thinking about something I just told Albert."

"What's that?"

"I told him that our CSI rarely do anything they shouldn't. But every once in a while, they get it in their heads to do something questionable. Imagine everything we'd miss if they didn't occasionally stray."

She smiled. "Yes. Instead of having one child, I often feel I have four. Five if I include you and a public relations disaster."

Grissom chuckled, turning to her. "But would you change it?"

Her smile softened. "I wouldn't change a thing."

"Have you run the unknown substance Greg found—"

"Uh-uh!" Catherine sharply told him.

"What?"

She started for the door. "Shoptalk isn't allowed at The Wall." She stopped at the door, turning to him. "And I would have to _rat you out_ if you broke that cardinal rule." She turned, walking out of the room.

Grissom smiled, turning. He walked over to the heart Sara had left. As his fingers touched her initials, the smile sank.

"I miss you," he whispered to the initials, then turned and left.


	10. Things That Come In Threes

10) Things That Come In Threes Aren't Always Good

Greg stormed into the locker room, shoving past Nick. The two watched him wrestle with the latch for a minute before slamming his fist against the metal. He grabbed the latch and threw the door open. The door slammed loudly against the metal and he threw his vest and field kit in, grabbed the door and slammed it shut. He turned, glaring at both of them.

"What!?" he demanded in a yell.

"Are you okay?" Nick asked.

"DO I _LOOK_ OKAY!?"

He didn't really want to answer that question, and the answer was no. Greg's right eye was puffy and black and blue. The sleeve of his shirt was torn and stained with his own blood. His right hand was wrapped in gauze.

"Did you pick a fight?" Nick asked.

Greg laughed, walking out. He answered, as he went around the corner, "No. The fight picked me!"

Nick contemplated going after him and making him tell him what happened, but he didn't really feel like dealing with Greg's temper this morning. He wanted to go home and sleep.

Greg walked to the elevator and impatiently jammed the call button several times.

"Greg," he heard Catherine call as the doors opened.

He stepped on and turned.

"Greg!" Catherine called.

He turned, glowering at her as the door closed. Greg tapped the button for the basement.

Catherine stopped outside the elevator, throwing her arms up.

"What was that about?" Nick asked as he walked up. "He was really mad."

Catherine looked at the papers she was carrying. "He's had three trips to the hospital tonight. He started loosing it after he was shot."

"Greg was shot? And you didn't send him home?"

"He wouldn't go!" Catherine walked away.

Nick looked up, seeing the elevator was stopping at the basement. The Wall. A good place for him to let off some anger. Nick tapped the button, and then slid his hands in his coat pockets. His hand wrapped around the note inside – he wondered where the woman was that wrote it. More importantly, he hoped she was okay wherever that was.

#

Greg kicked the file cabinet as he slipped between it and the wall. He tumbled into the room, catching himself on a chair. Greg's fingers curled tightly around the chair and suddenly he threw it against the wall with a roar. That didn't help his anger, it didn't make the pain in his arm or hand go away either. He reached for the chair.

"No," a voice said.

Greg spun around, finding Grissom watching him with a camera in his hand.

"Don't do that again," Grissom told him.

Greg headed for the door.

"Greg, stop."

Greg was compelled to obey. He stood behind the door, hidden from Grissom's view.

"I thought today was your day off," Greg said.

"It is. But it's the first day I haven't been called in for anything, so I decided I'd photograph the wall for posterity."

Greg didn't move. Something was keeping him from leaving. Was it the room or Grissom or both?

"I assume you didn't have a good night. I haven't seen you in this bad of a mood since Sara left."

Greg came back into the room. If Grissom wanted to know, fine, he'd tell him. He wouldn't hold anything back if that's what Grissom wanted.

"I go to the first crime scene, just me and Brass. It's a domestic violence call, one person down. They're still trying to get the husband under control inside, so I start working the perimeter. The husband suddenly comes running out, jumps in his pickup, and almost runs me over trying to escape. I got this," he points at his eye, "And road rash from him. Oh, but the fun didn't stop there. Fuck no! I go to the next scene with Catherine and everything seems okay. Suspects are out in the cars, two witnesses, one DOA. We start working it. Suddenly, one of the witnesses goes off, gets a gun from somewhere in the house, and starts shooting at the suspects. I get shot! In the arm, granted, not vital, but it HURTS LIKE HELL! Oh, but my night isn't over! Not even close to being over. Before the night is over, I have some bratty kid kick me in the balls, and a psycho-victim grabbed a knife and sliced open my hand!" Greg presented the bandaged hand to Grissom. "I've got Catherine trying to convince me to go home, a ton of evidence that I never got to because I kept ending at the hospital, I haven't eaten all night, my head, hand and arm are killing me, and I'm so angry and fed up with this day that I can't even sleep!"

Silence fell between them. Greg looked away from him. He actually felt a little better. The anger wasn't as intense as it had been when he'd stormed into the room.

"I'm sorry you had such an awful night. That would make me upset too."

Greg looked at him. He was holding out a piece of chalk.

"So I think you should catch up on the list and update it with a few of your own. Your list has always helped me when I've been upset about something."

Greg walked forward, taking the chalk. "Really?"

"Yes. Really."

Greg looked at the walls. The rules had become scattered about the room. They seemed almost organic now, having become one with the room. The rules knew they had a clandestine influence, an enchantment; they could draw anyone into them with their silent promise to help them laugh and for a while, however short it was, someone could forget about there being pain and bad shifts and budgets and management that couldn't understand and evidence that led no where. The rules didn't care about any of that, and that was what made them so powerful.

"A lot's been added since I was in here last," Greg said. Already his anger was starting to melt inside him so the words came out easy.

"I saw that too."

Grissom turned back to snapping photographs of the walls, table, and floor. Greg started reading the writings, catching up before he added any of his own:

* * *

**94. I should not drink three quarts of blue food coloring before a urine test.  
**

* * *

He chuckled at his own line. He had been chosen for the monthly random drug test and that ticked him off. He though the tests were a waste of time and taxpayer dollars. So on the way there, he bought five bottles of blue food coloring and drank them before he arrived at the test clinic. The clinic called Grissom in a panic, saying that Greg must be sick with some foreign disease and they were going to call the CDC. Grissom told Greg all this when he called him at home, and then informed him that in two days he had to submit another sample and this time, he was not to drink any food coloring beforehand.

* * *

**95. Nor should I drink three quarts of red food coloring, and scream during the same. (**_**Nick's handwriting. He'd tried to follow in Greg's footsteps and it ended bad for him. They thought it was blood, Grissom promised to write him up if he did it again.**_**)**

**96. Lab rats are not allowed to call out "dead man walking!" when a co-worker passes on their way to a review. (**_**Archie's handwriting**_**)**

**97. I may not imitate masturbation as a tool to demonstrate a flaw in a command decision. (**_**Bobby's handwriting.**_**)**

**98. I am not authorized to sell mineral rights unless I own the mineral rights. (**_**Nick's handwriting.**_**)**

**99. Not allowed to attempt to appeal to mankind's basic instincts while posting employment openings on the board, online, or in the newspaper. (**_**Gina's handwriting.**_**)**

**100. The medical examiner is not authorized to prescribe any medication. (**_**Robbins handwriting. What was that about, Greg wondered?**_**)**

**101. "It is better to beg forgiveness than to ask permission," no longer applies to lab tech Hodges. (**_**Catherine's handwriting. There was such a thing as small miracles!**_**)**

**102. The proper response to any command is not "Why?" (**_**Catherine's handwriting. Killjoy!**_**)**

**103. I am not allowed to use Bunsen burners and evidence trays to make grilled cheese sandwiches. (**_**Hodges' handwriting. Another small miracle. He liked his grilled cheese almost burnt and it stunk up the lab up the rest of the nigh!.**_**)**

**104. Do not tease lab rats that have worked six back-to-back shifts. (**_**Hodges' handwriting. Wise word of advice.**_**)**

**105. Betting pools regarding a crime scene, suspect, or evidence is bad. (**_**Warrick's handwriting.**_**)**

**106. I should not threaten to hurt children suspects by making them eat Pop Rocks® with Coke®. (**_**Warrick's handwriting. Where was he when Warrick did that?)**_

**107. May not form any gangs despite news reports of there being one. (**_**Gina's handwriting. What?**_**)**

**108. I am not to refer to tox screens as "human happy meters." (**_**Hodges' handwriting. sigh! Well, there was always Breakfast at Tiffany's. That made Greg giggle.**_**)**

**109. The proper way to report to a supervisor at a crime scene is, "Where do you need me?" not "You can't prove a thing!" (**_**Grissom's handwriting.)**_

**110. We do not refer to little people as citizens of Oz. (**_**Grissom handwriting again.**_**)**

**111. I will not create new levels of security clearance. (**_**Grissom's handwriting and what? Was that for himself or someone else?**_**)**

**112. Coin tosses do not supersede a supervisor's orders or instructions. (**_**Grissom handwriting again.**_**)**

**113. 'Rock, scissors, paper' will not be used to determine how a victim died. (**_**Grissom handwriting yet again.**_**)**

* * *

"A little busy with the list today, I see," Greg commented.

"I had to catch up," Grissom answered.

Greg smiled. He walked over to a spot and began writing:

* * *

**114. I may not sing "99 bottles of beer on the wall\99bottles of beer\swab one down\run it through CODIS\98bottles of beer on the wall…" until verse 89, ever again.**

* * *

"Who forbade that?" Grissom asked.

"Warrick. He told me if I ever did it again he'd quit that night and leave me alone to process the scene."

Grissom chuckled. Greg added his next one:

* * *

**115. It is not our job to save pond biologics from evidence because "they may be potentially endangered species."**

* * *

"You almost had me convinced, you know," Grissom told him.

Greg looked back at him. He was sitting in a chair, watching Greg write his rules.

"I did?"

"Almost. You shouldn't have smiled."

"Note to self. Okay, next one."

* * *

**116. I am not allowed to come to work with unnatural hair color even if it was done professionally and is 'in season.'**

* * *

"I never said you couldn't have unnatural hair."

"You said if I did I'd have to wear a hat until it grew out or I dyed it again."

"It was scaring the children."

Greg shot a look over his shoulder. "The children, huh? There weren't any at that crime scene."

"It was scaring me."

Greg smiled, writing his next one:

* * *

**117. Hair and skin should not be scanned into the computer and then used to make the Quizno™ hamsters.**

* * *

"What are the Quizno hamsters?"

"A really bad marketing idea. I liked them, but I know a lot of people that thought they looked gross. When I made one with scanned in hair and skin samples, Catherine saw it and told me if I ever tried to recreate another one she'd take a ruler to my knuckles."

"She wouldn't have."

"I didn't want to test that."

Grissom chuckled again. Greg wrote down his next one:

* * *

**118. Must not use city equipment to bootleg pornography.**

* * *

"I won't ask."

"Thanks." Greg wrote the next one:

* * *

**119. My gun is not named "Sheila, Avenger of Silly Putty."**

* * *

He stepped back, waiting for a comment from Grissom. When Grissom didn't comment, he turned and asked, "No comment?"

"My gun is named Alicia."

Greg laughed. He walked over to a chair and sat down, tapping the chalk on the table.

"Feeling better?" Grissom asked.

Greg shrugged. He actually was feeling a lot better, but his hurting arm wasn't making it easy to let all his anger go.

"Are you done?" Greg pointed at the camera.

"I am." Grissom stood, and began packing his photograph equipment. "I will see you tomorrow."

"Do you still go on the roller coaster?"

"Yes. I was going to go today."

"Well... Have fun."

Greg tapped the chalk on the table again. Grissom finished and laid his hands on his camera bag.

"Greg."

"Hm?"

"Would you like to join me?"

Greg looked up at him, smiling. "I'm still starving."

"You want to eat before you ride it?"

"I always eat before I ride roller coasters."

"I could use some breakfast, too. Come on."

Greg got up, following him out. He paused when he reached back to shut off the light. He'd never verbalize it, but in his mind he thanked the room. True, if Grissom hadn't been there it probably would have taken longer for the anger to fade, but Greg believed the room helped facilitate Grissom's calm and help soothe his anger.


	11. Introducing the Unbelievable Mrs

11) Introducing the Unbelievable Mrs. Phillips

Tina Brown stood flat against the wall, trying not to bounce. She wrapped her gloved hands tighter around the picnic basket she was holding, thinking about the warm thermos of mulled cider inside. Winter in the desert had its blazing hot days and near freezing nights. And it didn't help she was standing at the back of a police station next to a back door without any light. The door clicked and opened, and Warrick stepped around it.

"Come on," he said.

"This had better be worth it, Warrick Brown."

He smiled, taking her hand and pulling her inside the police station. "Trust me, will ya?"

She trusted her husband explicitly; especially when he slid his hand against the small over her back and it felt like he was breezing her through the room, like he was now. He led her to a staircase and pushed open the door for her. Tina walked in and waited. He took her free hand and led her down into the basement.

"You can't tell anyone I brought you."

"I know, Warrick. You keep telling me that and I haven't forgotten in the last twenty-four hours."

He smiled at her, stopping at the bottom door. Warrick turned to her, gently brushing his finger down the side of her face before pulling her into a kiss. She almost forgot to hang onto the basket. He had woken her up by making love to her. While they laid in bed catching their breath, he told her that tonight was the night. Tonight he was going to show her The Wall. And they were going to make it special. He surprised her with the picnic basket – she didn't even know they owned one! He told her they would have dinner in the room and he would tell her all the stories he knew about the list and the other writings. Driving over she was in for another surprise when he admitted the main dish might be a little burnt since he wasn't real good at the cooking thing. He cooked? He never cooked!

"Come on," Warrick whispered, taking her hand again.

He slowly opened the door, looking down the hall toward the morgue. He motioned her to be quiet and slipped out the door into the hall with her. The two hurried down the hall to records. Warrick dug his keycard out of his pocket and let them into the vast room.

"What room is this?" Tina whispered.

Warrick answered in a normal voice, "Records. They keep the closed and cold cases down here."

Warrick gently pulled her into a walk, leading the way.

"What's a cold case?"

"Unsolved."

"Oh. Are there many of those?"

"Too many."

She looked down the aisles as they passed, staring at the floor to ceiling boxes.

"Do you come down here often?"

"Well, yeah, I write on The Wall too."

"I meant to records."

"You mean to get records?"

"Yes."

"Naw. Not often."

"Doesn't anyone ever wonder why you guys come down here all the time then?"

Warrick offered up a lazy grin. "That's why it's so good there's so many of us. What the bosses upstairs don't know, they can't stop. Besides, we got Grissom in on it. He's been good at running interference for us."

"That man…" she let out a sigh.

"What about him?"

"Into bugs." She shivered. "I can't understand that."

"Yeah, well, I'm into dead people, so not much difference."

She smiled. "You're into living too."

"So is he."

She realized she'd insulted him. "I'm sorry. I know you like him."

"Most of the time I do."

She smiled, sliding her arm around his and pulling close. They turned down the last aisle and Warrick stopped short. She looked up at him. He was staring down the aisle.

"What is it?"

"Someone's in there." Warrick looked back toward the door, then at the open door. It was open a crack, letting light out.

"Maybe someone just left the light on."

"Naw. We're careful about that. That's how Grissom found it."

She was disappointed. She really wanted to see this place, for once share something from his work.

"We can go," she said softly.

Warrick looked down at her. He looked at the door and back at her. "No. But let me see who it is first. Come on. I'll show you were to wait."

Tina smiled, letting him lead the way. He took her to the other side of the cabinets.

"I'll come get you when it's okay. Wait here."

She nodded. Warrick hesitated, and then kissed her. She almost dropped the basket again. He pulled away and left for the door. She bit down on her bottom lip, watching him slip between the cabinet and wall and disappear into the room.

#

Warrick stopped and stared. David he wasn't surprised to see. But the woman sitting on the table next to him was a surprise. She was a tall brunette with radiant, flawless skin. The two looked at him and her eyes were a light blue with dark blue outlining them. Then Warrick saw their hands. She was holding onto David's and wearing an engagement ring. Warrick's eyes tore away when David slid off the table and stood.

"Hi," David said.

"What's up?"

There was an awkward silence. The woman stood up next to David, sliding her hand back into his. Next to her, David looked a little short. She had to be at least five inches taller and now Warrick could see she was slim, but in a healthy, athletic way. Warrick had a very intense sense that he had seen this woman somewhere before, but he couldn't put his finger on where.

"This is my fiancée Christy," David said.

In an instant, the world suddenly got even stranger. _This_ was David's fiancé?

"Uhm…" was all Warrick could say for what felt like hours as he stared at the two.

"Christy, this is Warrick Brown. He's one of our CSI."

"Hello," she said, and right away Warrick heard her Australian accent. This night just kept getting odder. David's girlfriend was a drop-dead gorgeous Aussie?

"Have we met before?" Warrick asked her. "You look familiar."

She smiled and blushed lightly. David smiled proudly, patting her hand. She turned to him, trying to hide her face against his head.

"She's a lingerie model. She did a TV spot a few months ago."

David's fiancée was a drop-dead gorgeous Australian, lingerie model. The night couldn't possibly get any more peculiar now.

"Oh," Warrick answered, because he didn't really know what else to say.

"I hate that, Davey. Why do you do that to me?" she asked.

David smiled up at her. "Because I'm proud of you, Christy. I think you're work is beautiful."

She blushed again, wrapping both arms around his. David looked back at Warrick.

"Don't tell anyone I showed her the room. I've told her about it and she's been asking to see it."

"I won't say a word. In fact… I brought Tina to see it tonight."

"Oh. Where is she?"

"Out in records. I didn't know who was in here."

"Bring her in. You'll like Tina," David told Christy.

Warrick stepped into the door and motioned Tina to come. She trotted to the cabinet and slipped into the room. Warrick noticed she looked confused.

"This is the assistant coroner, David Phillips, and his fiancée Christy."

Tina slowly looked up at Warrick, staring at him for a minute. Then she smiled, looking back at the two.

"Christy, this is my wife, Tina," Warrick told her.

Christy moved away from David long enough to extend her hand and shake Tina's when she offered it out. Then she was back at David's side. And silence fell again.

"Would you like some champagne?" Christy asked.

"Sure," Warrick and Tina answered.

Christy picked up a large padded bag from the floor and sat it on the table.

"I'm afraid we weren't expecting company, we only have two glasses."

"Were… You two going to have a picnic in here?"

"Yeah," David answered. "It was my night off so I packed us supper."

"That's what we were going to do to!" Tina said.

"You cook too?" Warrick asked.

"He's an amazing cook!" Christy told them. "He made us chicken cordon blue, crème brulèe, white asparagus with a hollandaise sauce, and bought the champagne last night. Why don't we just have a picnic together?" Christy suggested.

Warrick looked down at the picnic basket, suddenly feeling inadequate. What he'd made was much simpler: a boxed dish and pasta salad and pudding. He bought mulled cider and heated it in the microwave.

"I don't—" Warrick started, but Tina cut him off.

"Sure!" She walked forward and started unpacking the basket.

"You know, Tina, maybe we could come back later. I mean, they were going to spend the night and—"

Warrick stopped when she turned to him and had that hurt look on his face. The one that said he'd said the wrong thing, disappointed her, and maybe even broke her heart a little.

"We don't mind," David said.

Warrick looked at the picnic basket. Tina looked down at it and suddenly understanding came across her face. She smiled up at the two.

"He's right, we'll—"

"I can't cook anything that's not in a box or is fixed in the microwave," Christy said, looking right at Warrick. "But I'm learning. I'm sure whatever you have will be delicious. Please, stay. I don't get to meet many of David's co-workers and this is kind of fun. Since we're not supposed to even be here and such."

Tina laughed, sliding her arm around Warrick's waist. He smiled when she looked up at him.

"Besides, you don't know _all_ the stories with the list," David added.

Warrick nodded, opening the picnic basket. The four set out their dishes and pulled up chairs to the table. Warrick shut the door before he joined them, not wanting anyone to hear them and come to investigate. They began eating and the men started down the list, explaining the ones that they knew the story about.

"Okay, so one hundred and twenty one there is Archie's handwriting," Warrick told them. "But I don't know what it's about."

* * *

**120. You are not allowed to use lab computers to run LAN parties even if you mentioned this to your supervisor while he was otherwise distracted and muttered something that sounded like okay. (Archie)**

* * *

"It wasn't him," David said. "It was some other guy on day shift that started a LAN party. He didn't tell Archie and Archie got in trouble for it. Ecklie was pretty vocal about it."

"So it's safe to say that's for the rest of the world?"

"Safe I'd say."

Christy chuckled at David's joke. Tina and Warrick didn't find it that amusing.

"Who swaps the men and women's restroom signs?" Tina asked.

* * *

**121. I may not swap the men and women's restroom signs while CSI is out.**

* * *

"Bobby," Warrick and David answered.

"He's our ballistics guru and he thinks that's the funniest thing to do when most everyone is out."

"So you've found yourself in the women's lavatories?" Christy asked.

"Yeah. And you know, when you walk in expecting to see a urinal, and instead find a bunch of toilets and tampon dispenser, and you're so tired you can't see straight, you begin to question your sanity."

"Luckily, he doesn't come to the basement to do that."

"It's just you and Robbins down here."

"I wouldn't want to go into the wrong restroom!"

Warrick shook his head, reading the next one out loud:

* * *

**122. I am not allowed to **_**sell**_** mineral rights, or any other rights, while on city time.**

* * *

"Nicky, Nicky, Nicky," Warrick said, shaking his head. "He is determined to torture the not so bright suspects."

"Nick? Nicolas Stokes?" Tina asked.

"You don't know the _real_ Nicolas Stokes, baby. He has an ornery streak that's a mile wide and ten miles long."

"You should have seen what he did to a corpse one Halloween."

"We're eating here, David!"

"I don't mind," the women answered.

"I do. No corpse talk, David."

"Okay. So why did he write the next one."

Warrick read it and burst out laughing:

* * *

**123. While at a crime scene, I am not allowed to try on any victim's clothing no matter what it is, where I found it, or how pretty it is.**

* * *

"At this one crime scene, the vic used to be an exotic dancer and she had this room full of costumes. Everything you could imagine. Nicky, he picks up this feather boa, and just get's silly. Well, I saw Grissom come in and I knew what was coming. He turned around, and instead of just stopping, he gets goofier. Grissom nearly fired him on the spot, but he must've talked his way out of it cuz he came back to work the next day.

"And was the next one the same day?"

* * *

**124. Not allowed to pretend I' am wearing earrings with any object in my field kit.**

* * *

"No. That's for Greg. He likes to wear things in his field kit when he gets bored at crime scenes. Nick said he can't try on clothes, Greg can't wear his field kit."

They laughed at the joke.

"Where is Brag Boulevard?" Christy asked.

* * *

**125. I am not allowed to say "I'm going to Bragg Boulevard to shake daddy's little money maker for twenties stuffed into my undies".**

* * *

"It's a metaphor. Greg can come up with some real interesting ones."

"Were you there when he said that one?" David asked.

"Naw. I don't know when he said that. But something tells me Catherine might no more. That's her handwriting on the next one."

* * *

**126. Nor are you allowed to ask a co-worker if he or she has done that lately.**

* * *

"Inflatable novelties?" Tina asked as she read the next one.

* * *

**127. Inflatable novelties are not to be brought to crime scenes as 'observing partners.'**

* * *

"That one is my fault," David admitted.

"You?" Christy asked, her warm voice full of surprise and wonder.

"Yeah. That was, well, mine." David said, looking at his plate. "I had a resuscitation doll in the vehicle when I received the call. It's a five thousand dollar piece of equipment and it was a bad neighborhood. So I took it in. When Catherine got there she asked why it was in there and that was my reply. So that one was because of me and my resuscitation doll. Although, I'm not really sure where the inflatable novelties came into it."

Warrick h to laugh. Not only because he could see David lugging a resuscitation doll into a crime scene to protect it. But he had to set the record straight.

"Maybe it wasn't you. Maybe it was the adult doll that Greg brought to his crime scene and claimed she was a civilian observing."

Or maybe both?"

Could be."

And who likes pink eyebrows?" Tina asked.

* * *

**128. My supervisor doesn't care why my eyebrows are dyed pink.**

* * *

"Greg," Warrick answered. "He's one strange man."

"And he really says one hundred and thirty at crime scenes?"

* * *

**129. When first viewing a naked corpse, I am no longer allowed to exclaim, "GET NAKED!"**

* * *

"Probably not anymore, but he usually did. I thought it was funny, myself."

"Who performs psychological experiences on corpses?" Christy asked.

* * *

**130. May not conduct psychological experiments on any corpse, supervisor, or co-worker**

* * *

"You'd be surprised," David said. "Day shift has some very strange people working for them."

"So us gravers aren't part of that?" Warrick, grinning. He knew the answer.

"I caught you trying to convince a decapitated corpse into talking about his feelings," David said.

Warrick laughed.

"You were trying to talk a dead person into talking about their feelings?"

"He started it!" Warrick pointed at David.

"I said it's too bad his head wasn't attached, maybe you could touch him, bring him alive for ten seconds and ask him who killed him."

"See!?" Warrick said.

"You watch too much television," Tina scolded David, and then scolded Warrick, "And you shouldn't listen to the guy that likes to watch horror movies in the morgue."

They all laughed.

"Oh Greggo… I'm surprised he ever gets a date."

* * *

**131. I am not, "A lesbian trapped in a man's body."**

* * *

They giggled.

"What's with the food experiments?" Tina asked.

* * *

**132. You are not allowed to use any food in the break room refrigerator for crime scene experiments.**

* * *

"Grissom," David and Warrick answered.

"He has this habit of stealing people's food to conduct experiments. Doesn't tell you until you go looking for your lunch, then he slaps a twenty in your hand and apologizes."

"At least he buys you lunch," Christy pointed out.

"Doesn't work if you can't get out to get anything."

"What is the FTIR?" Tina asked.

* * *

**133. The FTIR works much like a boiling pot or paint. The longer you hover, the longer it takes to finish its job.**

* * *

"It's this machine that identifies types of chemical bonds in a molecule by producing an infrared absorption spectrum that is like a molecular 'fingerprint'."

The woman looked blankly at him.

"It tells you what chemicals are present in evidence."

"Ohhhh," they said together.

"I have one to add tonight," David announced.

He pulled a piece of chalk from his coat and went to a blank spot, writing his contribution:

* * *

**134. I am not allowed to express my excitement over processing any famous dead bodies. (David)**

* * *

Sitting down, David explained, "Robbins told me I had to internalize my excitement from now on."

"I told you not to get so excited about that dead writer."

"That man was genius."

"That man was broke and pissed off some really nasty bookies."

"His writings were inspirational."

"David, you are nuts."

David only smiled.

"Chalk," Warrick said, holding out his hand.

David handed it over and Warrick got up to add his own:

* * *

**135. I will no longer perform lap dances while wearing my lab coat or CSI vest. **

* * *

"But baby, I love it when you give me lab dances in your gear," Tina said with a pouty look.

Warrick sat down next to her. "Yeah, 'cept I have a hard time explaining to my boss why my vest is always at the cleaners."

The come back amused even David.

Warrick finished off his plate and slid his arm across the back of Tina's chair, listening to the women talk. He had to look at the writing to avoid staring at David's goofy, happy smile. It was clear now why David never came to work in a bad mood.

#

Nick entered Frank's Diner, looking for Warrick and Tina. He spotted them sitting in a booth half way back. Warrick was leaned into the corner with Tina curled up next to him. They looked happy and Nick considered leaving. He knew it wasn't often Warrick and Tina had the same day off. But Warrick had called him and told him to come meet them, telling Nick he had something he wanted to him face-to-face, because Nick was not going to believe it. Nick walked down and sat down across from them, falling back on the bench. He was exhausted. He's spent the entire night in the desert sorting through a pile of bones, only to have Mandy call him at 5 AM to tell him the bones weren't even human.

"Long night?" Warrick asked.

"Uh-huh."

"What would you like, hon?" the waitress asked.

"Coffee, Ange. Lots of it. I'll open my mouth, you pour it in."

She laughed. "Okay, Nick, what do you really want?"

"Coffee, the breakfast platter with pancakes."

"And blueberries?"

Nick grinned, giving her two thumbs up. "Love you, Ange."

"You could show that by giving me better tips, Nicholas Stokes." She walked off to put in his order.

"I snuck Tina into The Wall tonight." Warrick told Nick.

Nick sat up, but then slouched down on the bench. "Don't tell the rats. They made our lives hell for a month after Grissom told Catherine and Brass."

"I won't. Yeah, so I had to sneak her in through the back door, you know the one with the faulty alarm on it."

"You mean the broken door alarm that if anyone in Las Vegas finds out about it Ecklie might have to actually budge money to get it fixed?"

"That's the one. We went down there and you will never, in a million years, guess who was down there."

"Ecklie."

"No! Where did that guess come from?"

"You said in a million years. That's the last place I could ever see Ecklie at."

"No. Guess again."

"I dunno, man! I'm too tired to guess. Just tell me."

Ange came back with Nick's coffee and a huge bowl of creamer.

"You know me so well, Ange. Wanna go get married?" Nick asked.

"My husband might object," she joked as she walked off.

Nick started fixing his creamer and sugar with coffee.

"You flirt with every waitress in here, don't you?" Tina asked.

"Only when I'm tired, I'm dirty, I'm hungry, and your husband tries to make me think."

Tina and Warrick both laughed.

"David and his woman," Warrick told him, watching Nick fix his coffee.

"That's not surprising. David's known about that for a while."

"Do you ever just drink coffee?" Warrick asked, motioning at the cup of light colored coffee.

"What's wrong with my coffee?"

"You even going to taste it with all that cream and sugar?"

"I like my coffee with cream and sugar, thank you very much!"

"That's not coffee with cream and sugar. That's, like, sugar and coffee flavored cream."

"Don't be telling me how to drink my coffee, Warrick. I don't tell you how to eat those disgusting frozen burrito things you like so much."

"Little Juan's is a working man's best friend."

"Hey! I fix you perfectly good lunches!" Tina argued.

Warrick kissed her check. "I know you do. I just have to remember to take them."

"Then it's your own fault you don't have good lunches."

Warrick hissed her cheek again. "I know it is, honey."

"Don't be kissing up to me, Warrick Brown!"

He kissed her cheek, starting to comment.

"So what about David and his woman, Warrick?" Nick interrupted.

Ange came back and sat Nick's breakfast down. She smiled as he grinned when he saw the heap of blueberries she'd put on his pancakes.

"Leave your husband, Ange. Marry me."

She only laughed, sat the syrup down and left. Nick dove into his scrambled eggs.

"Man, she is never gonna marry you," Warrick told him, adding, "David's woman is hot!"

Tina smacked Warrick's chest hard. Nick about choked on his eggs trying not to laugh.

"Hey, baby, not so hard in public." Warrick nuzzled her hair, wrapping his arms around her. "You're hot. It was the only thing I could think of to say."

Nick about choked again trying not laugh at Warrick kissing up.

"Uh-huh," Tina said.

Warrick looked at Nick with an evil grin and winked. "I'm sorry. You're hot. Just not as hot as she is."

Tina suddenly pushed away. "I'm going to the restroom, then we're leaving and you're going to make this up to me. We're going shopping."

"Ah come on. You don't mean that."

She slid out of the booth, standing, and then turned with an ornery grin. "I need more shoes." And she walked off.

Warrick groaned, leaning on the table.

"Teach you to tease her like that, won't it? So… Was his girl really hot?" Nick dove into his pancakes.

"Man, if I weren't married, I would have been trying to steal her away from him. She was smokin'. He said she models lingerie. I can't help but wonder how they even managed to hook up."

"_That_ is what you're wondering?" Nick asked.

"Oh, you mean I should be wondering what a girl like that is doing with our little corpse lover?"

"Something like that."

"Tina asked about that. She told him David has a lot of other redeeming qualities that don't involve dead people."

"Like?"

"Dunno."

Nick stared at Warrick. "That doesn't tell me anything. I mean, David's not a bad looking guy or anything, but I kinda expected his girl to be more…"

"Geeky?"

"Yeah!"

Warrick laughed. "Well, you are sorely mistaken, my friend. Tina's coming. Gotta go."

Warrick got up, snatching one of Nick's sausage links.

"Hey!" Nick cried, pretending he was trying to stab Warrick's hand with his fork.

"See you tomorrow night."

"Yeah. You too."

Nick leaned over his meal, contemplating the information he just learned. David's girl was a lingerie model? Somehow that just didn't make any sense in any world – this or an alternate one.


	12. Another Historical Figure

12) Another Historical Figure

Henry Andrews stacked jars in the cupboard, glad his shift was over.

"Hey Henry," he heard Greg say behind him.

"Yeah?"

"You're finished with everything?"

"Yes. Why?"

"I need you to come with me. I need you to look at something."

Henry turned. Greg stood in the door, hands pushed into his pockets. "I have to go home and—"

"Already took care of everything. You don't have to rush home. Come on."

"You did?"

"Yes."

"What do you need to show me?"

"Come on, Henry."

Henry was suddenly suspicious. Everyone had been acting strange around him. Well, not everyone. Just the CSI, Hodges, and Archie. They had been helping him all night try and get his work done, claiming they were trying to be nice. Henry didn't believe it at all. Not that they hadn't helped him before, but there was something very peculiar about it tonight. And after the pranks he'd seen them pull on each other, he wasn't sure how much he should trust Greg right now.

"I want to know what you want to show me, first."

"Don't be so stubborn. Come on." Greg turned, starting down the hall. He stopped, looking back at Henry. Henry put the last two jars away and locked the cupboard, then followed him. Greg led him to the elevator and pushed the call button.

"What is it?" Henry asked.

"I'll show you."

"Yeah, but what is it?"

Greg smiled at him. "You just have to follow me and see. Did David invite you to the wedding?"

"Yeah. He gave me the invitation a week ago. You?"

The elevator opened and Greg got on. Henry watched him tap the basement button.

"I am not going to the morgue, Greg. Whatever you want to show me, if it's in the morgue, I—"

"Not in the morgue. I heard he asked you to be a best man too."

"He did. Did he ask you?"

"Yeah, but I told him to ask his best friend."

"What best friend?"

"Some guy in Minnesota. They grew up together."

"You know, it's the first time I'll meet his fiancée. I heard she was hot."

"Lingerie model."

"Really?" Henry couldn't believe that. "Who told you that?"

"Warrick."

"How did he find out?"

"He and Tina met them one night." The doors opened and Henry followed him off. He was relieved when Greg turned and went down the hall away from the morgue. But then he was confused.

"What you want to show me is in records?"

"Yeah."

"What could possibly be in records that I need to see?"

Greg just smiled. He stopped at the keycard reader and dug a keycard from his hip pocket, swiping it. Henry noticed that it wasn't like their regular keycards. It didn't have the LVPD logo on it or Greg's picture. It was just a plain plastic card.

"What is that?" Henry asked, pointing at it.

Greg held it up as he went through the door. "A golden ticket, my friend. A golden ticket."

Henry frowned. "So where's my golden ticket?"

Greg smiled again, sliding the keycard back into his jeans. "All in good time, Henry."

"What? Who are you? What did you do with Greg Sanders?"

Greg laughed.

Henry heard a spiel of laughter come from somewhere at the back of the records room.

"Who's back there?"

"A party."

"Have you been drinking?"

"No!" Greg grinned, which completely nullified the answer.

"You've been drinking!"

"Maybe I had one beer."

"You drank while you were at work?"

"Henry, you are about to be inducted into a secret society." Greg grinned at him. "And in time, you too, will be drinking in the police station."

Greg turned down the last aisle. Henry stared at the open door at the end. He could see Warrick and Catherine, and heard people laughing.

"When did they build that room?"

"Back in the 1960s." Greg stopped at the filing cabinet, motioning into the room.

"What?"

"You go first."

"No. I'm going—"

"Henry's here!" Warrick called out.

He drew back several steps when Hodges, Archie, Bobby, Gina, Brass, Robbins, David, Catherine, Nick, Warrick and Grissom gathered around Warrick.

"Come on Henry," Warrick called.

"Why do I feel like a cow about to be slaughtered?" Henry asked.

Greg laid his hand on Henry's shoulder. "It's nothing like that. Don't be so dramatic. This is a good thing. Trust us."

Henry didn't trust them.

"Have you ever known Grissom to do anything horrible to you?" Warrick asked.

Well, Warrick had a point. Grissom wasn't known for pulling pranks – ever. Henry slowly walked toward the small opening between the wall and cabinet. He squeezed through and stepped into the room. He looked back, watching Greg squeeze through with a stupid grin on his face. He had to have had more than one beer.

"So…" Henry turned back to the others. "What's going on?"

"David is getting married Saturday, and we tried and tried to get a bachelor party together, but he didn't go for that," Nick explained. "He said all he wanted was for us all to get together at The Wall, and induct you into the group since you're one of his best men, and have some laughs."

"Tried to get the strippers down here, but Catherine put a stop to that," Warrick told him.

"Have to protect Gina and my dignity somehow," she shot back.

"Induct me into what?" Henry asked.

"The Wall crew!" Hodges said. He handed Henry a beer.

"I don't drink. What's The Wall crew?"

"This is," Gina said, grabbing his shoulders and steering him through the group into the center of the room.

Henry stared at the walls around him, at the writings on them. This he hadn't expected in the least.

"Figured you'd been here as long as most of us so it was time for you to get added to the group."

"The Wall Crew," Hodges corrected.

"Would you stop with the wall crew," Greg told him.

"I think it's a good name for us."

"You would," Gina shot back.

"So… When you guys have talked about the wall, this is what you meant?" Henry asked, turning to them.

He noticed a large wooden table pushed back against the wall. The top was varnished and it looked recent, preserving the writing under it. A buffet of food and drinks had been laid out on it and most of it was half gone.

"So, not that we have Henry, we can start on some new rules!" David said.

There was a cheer to his suggestion.

"What list?"

"This one," Grissom motioned at a wall.

Henry looked up, seeing the title of the list. Under it were numbered items and he noticed there were numbered items on other spots on the walls. Suddenly months of mysterious discussions made perfect sense. He had walked in on numerous conversations that referenced 'the wall,' and 'the list,' and 'lab rats aren't allowed to do that.' It had been baffling because as soon as he heard it, and they noticed he was in the room, the conversation changed so he never had a chance to decipher it.

"I'll be the first to take a stab at it," Archie said, holding up a piece of chalk.

Henry hadn't seen where he'd gotten it, or when everyone else had produced a piece of their own. Archie walked to a wall and started to write. He stopped, turning to Henry.

"Actually, Henry, being that you're new, you should be the first to write tonight."

"I have no idea what you're doing or talking about."

"You see the list here," Catherine said. "Well, we write to the list things that we've been told not to do, what we don't want to do, what we'd like other's not to do. It's kind of an ongoing gag."

"And the only people that know about it, are in this room," Bobby told him.

"No one else knows about this room?" Henry asked.

"Nope. And we plan to keep it that way."

Archie was holding out the chalk when he turned back around.

"I'll watch for now. I still am trying to figure out what's going on."

"Okay."

Archie turned back and wrote down:

* * *

**136. May not make posters depicting the leadership failings of my supervisors or co-workers.**

* * *

"Ecklie didn't like his poster?" Nick asked.

He walked over to the table and opened another beer, then sat down on the floor. Catherine and Gina joined him.

"Not really. He said it was too childish."

"You made him into a gorilla with his finger up his nose, Archie," Hodges told him.

"Yeah. You should have chosen a snake being beheaded," Greg growled.

The others laughed a little.

"He told me I couldn't wear my hat anymore," Bobby said.

"What hat?" Grissom asked.

Bobby walked over to a wall and wrote:

* * *

**137. I am not allowed to wear tinfoil caps to "Block out the space mind control lasers."**

* * *

"Are you serious? You wore that to stop mind control lasers?"

Bobby grinned. "I convinced a lot of people I did, didn't I?"

"That's because you did," Archie jabbed.

"I do not!"

"Bobby's hat isn't the worst thing he can't do anymore." Grissom stepped up to a wall, adding:

* * *

**138. Furby® is not allowed to help the bomb squad disarm a bomb.**

* * *

"Furby is a fearless member of the bomb squad!" Bobby retorted.

They started laughing.

"He is!" Bobby said, smiling. "He goes into any situation, fearless. There isn't a bomb he can't disarm."

"Or trigger!" Warrick jabbed.

"At least I don't go around screaming foul play like someone else here does!" Bobby looked right at Nick.

"I don't go around screaming foul play."

"Oh really?" Archie turned around, pretending to be putting something together. Suddenly he grabbed up something from the table and turned to Warrick. "Warrick, did you put these screws on the bench?"

Warrick grinned, "Naw man. They came out of the engine."

"No. They couldn't have come out of the engine."

"Alright, alright." Nick said, trying to stop them.

"I'm telling you, you took them out of the engine, Nicky," Warrick continued

"FOUL PLAY!" Archie yelled.

Everyone started laughing.

"Fine! No more foul play." Nick added it to the list:

**139. If I take a mechanical device apart and end up with more screws than when I started with, I am no longer permitted to yell out, "Foul play!"**

* * *

"And maybe you should add to that you aren't the big cheese on the crime scene," Greg said.

"Fine! I will!" Nick added the next rule.

* * *

**140. I am neither the king nor queen of cheese.**

* * *

He turned to them, faking crying, "I see how it is! Pick on Nicky. The underdog. The runt."

"You are so full of shit!" Gina laughed.

"At least I don't think I'm the queen of the lab," Nick taunted.

She rose to her feet, leaning into him. "Oh yeah? For your information, it's Empress."

"You ain't that either."

"I am the empress of this place. Without me, none of you would get memos! You wouldn't know when to hide your blow up toys and porn magazine when the Under Sheriff is coming for a surprise visit. So, yeah, I am the Empress."

"Gina, you're not the Empress," Catherine told her.

She turned to her. "A little female support would be nice."

Catherine shook her head as she drank some of her beer. "Sorry, chica, you can't be Empress. I am."

The men all booed her.

Gina nodded, walking over to a wall. "Okay. I see how it is, Catherine. If I can't be Empress, no one can!"

* * *

**141. I am not the Empress of anything.**

* * *

While Catherine booed, the men cheered. Gina turned with a smug smile on her face.

"Well, at least some us get to keep our regal status," Hodges said.

"Meaning?" Grissom asked.

"I'm the god of all evidence."

"You are?" Grissom asked.

"That's Grissom's title, Hodges," Warrick said before drinking more beer.

"No. It's not mine either. Nor is it yours Hodges."

"But I find more trace—"

"Keyword there was trace," Henry said.

"Yes. King of trace," Hodges looked up smugly.

Greg reached out and whacked him on the back of the head. Hodges turned to him.

"You, Hodges, are the king of I-can't-tie-my-shoes."

"What?"

"Shoes."

Hodges looked down at his laces that he didn't have.

Everyone started laughing.

"Alright, alright. And along Gina's line, if I can't be king, nobody can." Hodges added:

* * *

**142. I am not 'the god of all evidence' and may not try to convince my co-workers, supervisors, or rookies otherwise.**

* * *

"Glad we got that cleared up," David laughed.

"Yeah, he might have done more damage if he thought he was king of all evidence," Nick said.

"No. No one can do more damage then jumping bean over there," Warrick motioned at Greg.

"What? What I do?"

Nick started laughing. "You broke the metal detector last week! I remember that. It wouldn't go back in the case and you started stomping the lid."

"It came out in one piece."

"And broken," Grissom reminded him.

"I didn't break it!"

"Your shoe prints were on the case, Greg," Catherine. "Which means you can't do it and if that's the case, you must put it to the wall."

"Ah man!" Greg walked over to the wall, adding his receded right:

* * *

**143. I am no longer allowed to jump on anything to make it fit or close.**

* * *

"Oh, and one more thing I have to remember not to do," Greg added:

* * *

**144. If a beautiful victim's cat hisses at me, I will let animal control test the animal's reflexes.**

* * *

Catherine started laughing hard. "You just had to impress her, didn't you?"

"There's a good story behind this?" Grissom asked.

Catherine said, "Yes," at the same time Greg said, "No."

"Now we have to hear the story," Warrick said, flashing Greg a vindictive smile.

"No. It wasn't—"

"Would this have something to do with coming back from that rape case looking like you'd just been through a war?" Nick asked.

Again Catherine said, "Yes," at the same time Greg said, "No."

"Oh come on, Greggo, I gotta tell the story," Catherine told him. "If it weren't for you and that cat, we never would have gotten a rape kit."

"You don't need his permission, just tell it," Nick urged.

"No!" Greg told her.

But she ignored him. "So we get there and this poor girl is messed up bad. She wasn't about to let anyone touch her. So Greg's standing back, letting me try to talk to her, and she suddenly says she can't leave without her cat. She was pretty insistent on finding this cat. So Greg goes looking for it, finds it under a chair across the room. He calls it, tries to coax it out with a toy, nothing's working—"

"You can stop now," Greg said.

Catherine smiled, continuing. "So he decides he's just going to reach under there and grab it. All of a sudden he comes out from under the chair screaming bloody murder with this cat attached to his face!"

Everyone started laughing. Greg turned and pretended to beat his head against the wall.

And that cat, it wasn't about to let him go! He's yelling 'let go! Let go!' and trying to pull the cat off. He gets it off and it latches onto some other body part, gets it off again, it latches onto some other body part. We are all just _dying_ laughing! I mean, even our vic was laughing. She suddenly gets up and gets its carrier and the two of them get the cat in it. But, before they get it in, this cat has other ideas. He's getting the carrier door latched and the cat starts kicking and flopping around inside the kennel. So he grabs hold of it like a punching bag and falls down, holding the kennel down. Then he looks up at her, and says, 'Did you train this cat to attack everyone or just me?' She sits down she's laughing so hard and apologizes. She said the guy threw it under the chair and she was sure it was dead. He tells her it is anything but dead. So we finally get ourselves collected and he talks her into going to the hospital for an exam. I'm getting ready to leave and she asks Greg to watch her cat for her. The look on his face… She starts laughing again and we leave."

"Did you watch the cat?" Nick asked Greg.

Greg turns. "I still have the cat. She asked me to take it to the shelter and I just… Couldn't."

"How are you two getting along now?"

"It sleeps on my head."

The room erupted in renewed laughter.

"Hey," Greg pointed at Nick. "At least I have a real cat sleeping on my head. Not that fake one you had after the last Halloween party."

"Oh, now, that's just a low blow."

"You and Warrick apparently don't get the two drink limit."

"We do now. Here. I'll show you." Nick wrote:

* * *

**145. Two drink limit does not mean first and last.**

* * *

"As I recall, that wasn't the only misunderstanding of the two drink rule," Grissom said.

"What do you mean?" Nick asked with exaggerated innocence.

"Oh, fine!" Warrick said. He added under Nick's rule:

* * *

**146. Two drink limit does not mean two drinks of two different kinds. **

* * *

"Man, LVPD functions are going to be boring," Nick complained.

"And while we're at it, maybe we should set a limit on size," Hodges added, writing under Warrick's:

* * *

**147. Two drink limit does not mean the drinks can be as large as I like.**

* * *

In unison the two said, "We never did that!"

"Oh, yeah, because they were serving everyone at the Halloween party forty-two ounce Daiquiris."

The two couldn't deny the accusation.

"And then…" David added, walking over to the spot, "They proceeded to go out to the parking lot and pull pranks." David wrote:

* * *

**148. You may not insert any fruit or vegetable into the tailpipe of any city vehicle.**

* * *

"That's not fair," Nick argued. "The potato exploded when you started the meat wagon. You never knew it was there!"

"Uh-huh," Hodges said, adding under David's:

* * *

**149. Nor may you insert any fruit or vegetables into the tailpipe of your co-worker's personal vehicles.**

* * *

"We have now learned that if you want to effectively stall a car, use apples, haven't we?" Hodges asked.

The two laughed, inciting another round of laughter.

"Speaking of unusual behavior," Grissom said, turning to Bobby. "Do you want to explain to me why you were carrying a crucifix around the day after?"

"Uh… no."

"He was trying to ward off people he didn't like," Henry said.

"I was not!"

"You were," the room answered.

"Here, make it so number one," Archie said, holding his chalk out to Henry.

Henry grinned, taking the chalk. He found a blank spot and wrote:

* * *

**150. Crucifixes do not ward off co-workers, supervisors, angry suspects, or angry civilians, and I should not test that. **

* * *

"Yeah, well, at least I'm not the one trying to convince everyone I can't do my job cuz there's a ghost in my lab's refrigerator," Bobby shot back.

"Gozer," Nick, Greg, and Hodges corrected.

"What's the difference?"

"Gozer lived in Dana's refrigerator," Greg answered. "The other ghosts didn't."

"What?" Grissom asked.

"You need to watch more old movies, Grissom," Nick said.

"Fine! No more Gozer." Henry wrote down:

* * *

**151. Gozer does not dwell in any lab refrigerator and is an unacceptable excuse to **_**not**_** perform my duties. **

* * *

Henry continued, "I'll have to resort to Slimer now. But if I can't have Gozer, then you, Warrick Brown, can't have this one."

* * *

**152. "No Drinking of Alcoholic Beverages" does not imply that a Jack Daniel's® IV is acceptable. **

* * *

"You told me that was for dialyses," Grissom said.

"I never said I _needed_ dialyses, just that it could be for that."

Grissom shook his head. "I should have known better than believe that."

"So really, I think we should call ourselves The Wall Crew," Hodges said.

"That's a stupid name," Nick argued, leaning against a wall.

"Yeah, but it's good for now, isn't it?" Gina asked.

"Thank you, Gina."

"Until we can think of something not so stupid," she added.

"So The Wall Crew?" Hodges asked.

Half-heartedly they agreed, which thrilled Hodges. He walked over to the door, the only spot that didn't have writing, and pulled a chair up to it. He stepped up on it and at the top wrote the name, year, and then signed his initials. He stepped off, smiling proudly at the new name.

Grissom seemed to take more interest in this than the others.

"We should all initial it," he said.

"Why?"

"To make it part of the historical record of the room. We can add a line every time we add a new member."

There was a moment of silence. Grissom stepped onto the chair and signed his initials. Without another word, they each signed their names along the top of the door. When it was done, the entire line read: **The Wall Crew – 2008 – (DH, MW, GS, HA, WB, NS, CW, CE, GG, AJ, Gina)**.

For a moment they stared at it, then Nick started talking about something that happened at his last crime scene and they went back to laughing at each other's mishaps.


	13. Little Man On Campus

13) Little Man On Campus

Henry looked up when Gina knocked on his lab door.

"Hey, you have company."

"I do?"

"Yeah… He couldn't sleep again."

Henry sighed, looking at his watch. It was four in the morning. He sat down what he was working on and followed her out to the lobby.

He came around the corner and his eyes narrowed a little. Standing next to his neighbor Doreen Cooper was his little brother, Jason. The child had just turned six but tonight he was acting like he was two. He was still wearing his 'Over The Hedge' pajamas and hugged a worn stuffed animal. The stuffed animal had been Henry's when he was a child. His grandmother had made it from patches of cloth and he named it Ralph. Ralph stuck even after the worn stuffed toy had been passed on to Jason.

Henry smiled at Doreen, masking that he was upset she was here with Jason. "Why didn't you call Doreen?"

"I tried but he wouldn't stop screaming until I promised to bring him to you. I'm sorry, Henry. I didn't know what else to do. I thought that maybe if you talked to him for a few minutes, I could take him home and—"

"NO!" Jason screamed.

He left the safety zone of Doreen and wrapped his arms around Henry's waist, clinging on tight.

"Is there a problem?" Henry heard Grissom asked.

Henry didn't turn. He didn't know what to say because he wasn't sure there was a problem yet.

"I think we have it under control," Gina said.

"Who is this?" Grissom asked

"Henry's brother."

Henry crouched down, pulling Jason's arms away. "Hey big guy, we can't do this every night."

Jason started crying, falling into Henry's arms. Henry closed his eyes, resting his head on Jason's shoulder. Eight months ago their parents had been killed by a drunk driver – Henry had been upset when Grissom refused to bend rules and let him work on the case – and ever since then, their live had become difficult. Henry was trying to learn to be a dad and mom, Jason was being a grieving six year old. The only time Henry felt normal was at work. Henry pushed Jason back, looking in his eyes.

"Jason, I really need you to go back with Doreen, okay? I have to work and I can't take any more time off."

"I want to stay with you."

"Jason, this isn't any place for a… you."

Jason cried harder. "I want to stay with you, Henry."

Henry closed his eyes. The child therapist said he had to be more firm with Jason and set his boundaries. She felt it was the only way Henry was going to get these nightmares under control and stop him from fighting at school. Henry looked at Jason again.

"Jason—"

"For tonight he can stay, if you want him to," Grissom offered.

Henry slowly turned, looking up at him.

"He can't touch any evidence. He'll have to stay in the break room or with Catherine or me when we're here."

"Are…" Henry remembered the therapist's words and shook his head, turning back to Jason. "No. Buddy, you gotta go home and get some sleep."

Henry didn't think it was possible for Jason to cry any harder, but he found a renewed source and began wailing. Which attracted most of the lab to peek in on the situation.

"Okay! Okay! Stop it!" Henry snapped. "Jason, goddamit STOP IT!"

Jason's wailing didn't stop. Henry felt helpless. He didn't know what to do.

"What's your name?" Catherine asked, crouching next to Henry.

"Ja- Ja- Jason."

"So you're the reason Henry's always tired and keeps getting calls at work?" Catherine asked.

She had the perfect mom tone, the one Henry could still remember his own mother using on him even as an adult. It said that she wasn't happy, she felt the situation was uncalled for, but yet, she cared enough that she wanted to help.

Jason bit his lip, stopping his wailing. Slowly the tears ebbed.

"Yes," Jason answered softly.

"Was tonight a bad nightmare?"

He nodded.

"Yeah?" she asked. "What happened?"

He looked down at his dog. "Henry died in the car accident with mom and dad."

Henry almost started crying. He should have asked that question first. Was he ever going to get this right?

"I'm sorry buddy."

Catherine reached out, taking Jason's hand. "Well guess what?"

"What?"

"Henry is right here and he's just fine. And so are you."

Jason nodded.

"That was a really awful nightmare, but you know you have to listen to your brother, don't you?"

He nodded. He looked up at Henry.

"I can't go back to sleep, Henry. I don't want to go home. Please, please let me stay. Tomorrow's Saturday. I brought my homework. I can do it here, can't I? I promise I'll be good. I promise I won't get in your way. Please, please, Henry."

Henry couldn't stand his ground any more. "Fine. But you obey everyone here. You don't talk back. You don't throw any tantrums. The first time you don't mind or misbehave, I will never let you stay again. Understood?"

Jason threw his arms around Henry's neck. Henry sighed, smiling. He loved getting hugs from his brother. His parents had never been much for physical affection toward either of them. Somehow this made up for it.

"Okay. Doreen, do you have his homework?"

Doreen handed him a Power Rangers backpack.

Henry smiled, tousling his little brother's hair. "You're sneaky, know that?"

Jason squeezed harder. Henry sighed, standing and picking him up. He took the backpack.

"Thank you Doreen. And I'll have your check this afternoon."

She nodded. She leaned over, kissing Jason's cheek.

"See you tomorrow night, kiddlet."

"Bye Doreen."

She went back to the elevator, pushing the call button. Henry turned, surprised to see most of the lab was behind him.

"I gotta run some trace," Hodges said, hurrying away.

"Greg, we got the car in the garage. We should probably start on that," Nick said, wandering off.

Greg followed, flashing Henry a smile as he passed.

Quickly everyone dispersed until it was just Catherine and Grissom. And Gina behind the receptionist desk acting like she wasn't paying any attention.

"Jason, is it?" Grissom asked.

Jason turned his head, nodding.

"Have you ever seen an ant colony?"

Jason shook his head.

"Catherine and Henry both have work, so I can show you all my bugs and when they're free, you can stay with one of them."

"Who's Catherine?"

She raised her hand.

"Hi," Jason said.

"Hi," she said.

Jason sat up in Henry's arms. "Can I go?"

Henry sat him down, nodding. "You mind him or he'll shrink your head."

Jason's eyes grew large. Henry laughed.

"I'm kidding. But he will call me and you'll be in trouble. Be good."

Jason grinned, reaching out and grabbing Henry's finger. He tapped his nose with his finger.

"Say it, Henry. Say it!"

In a perfect imitation of E.T., he told him, "Be good."

Jason giggled. He turned, holding his hand out to Grissom. Grissom took it and the two headed down the hall. Henry stood, sighing.

"I'm really sorry about this. I—"

"You didn't really plan on being dad at age twenty-two, did you?" she asked him.

"No."

"It's okay. I didn't realize Jason was so young, though."

Henry nodded. "He was an accident."

She nodded. "I can understand that. Well, I have a lot of coats too examine for trace. Let me know if you find anything on the paper I gave you."

Henry nodded.

She walked away, leaving him alone with Gina.

"You'll have to ask me to baby sit sometime. For free," Gina suggested.

Henry smiled at her. "I'll keep that in mind."

He walked down the hall, putting the backpack under his arm. He passed Grissom's office on the way to his lab and stopped, backpedaling. Grissom had taken down his ant farm and the two were talking about it. Henry laughed to himself, walking away.

#

Henry walked into Catherine's office, stopping at the end of the couch. Jason was sleeping soundly, curled up in a blanket she usually kept on the back of the couch.

"How long has he been out?" Henry asked in a whisper, looking up at her.

"About four hours. I think Grissom wore him out."

"He really likes Grissom."

"Grissom really likes him. It's a mutual bug interest, I think."

"Jason loves bugs. That makes sense."

Henry walked over to her desk, setting down a folder. "Here are the results from the paper. I'm still cross referencing with manufacturers."

"Okay. I have to go on a call. Let me know what you have when I get back."

"Henry?" Jason said.

He turned. Jason was sitting up, rubbing his eyes. Henry walked over and sat down next to him.

"Hey buddy. What's wrong?"

"I'm hungry."

"Yeah? Me too. I have a couple sandwiches in the break room."

"Ham and peanut butter."

"You and your ham and peanut butter. No. Ham and cheese."

"Can I have a ham and peanut butter?"

"We'll see." Henry stood.

Jason held his arms out to be picked up.

"You need to walk."

"My legs are broken."

"They are not."

Jason grinned. "They are too, Henry."

Henry dropped to his knees, tickling Jason until he started kicking and hitting at Henry's hands.

"Those are not broken legs!"

"They are! You can't make me walk. I'm wearing my pajamas."

"I can't, can I?"

"No. You're not allowed to make me."

"Sounds like something someone would put on The Wall," Catherine joked as she passed. "Close my door when you guys leave."

Jason sat up. "What's The Wall?"

Henry smiled. "I can't tell you. It's a big, big secret."

"I can keep a secret."

"You told me about Heidi Kross' freckles!"

"Everyone knows about Heidi Kross' freckles, Henry."

Henry stood and grabbed Jason under the arms, tossing him up in the air. Jason squealed, grabbing him around the neck when he came back down. Henry let him go, letting him hang as he left the office.

"Door!" Jason said. "Catherine said the door had to be closed.

"Oh yeah. I'm so old I forgot."

Jason giggled, climbing up Henry to get a better hold on him.

Henry shut the door and wrapped his arms around Jason as he walked. He passed Hodges' lab. He glanced at the two, but Henry didn't hold his gaze. He didn't want to know what Hodges was thinking. The two went into the break room and Henry found peanut butter in the first cabinet he opened. He got out his lunch and two paper plates, halving his lunch between them. He peeled open Jason's sandwich, starting to spread peanut butter on it. He looked up when Hodges came into his peripheral view.

"Peanut butter on ham and cheese?" Hodges asked.

"It's really good," Jason told him.

"I'll take your word for it," Hodges told him.

He pulled his frozen dinner from the refrigerator and started heating it up. Henry picked up the plates and sat them down.

"Can I have milk?" Jason asked.

"I don't have any, bud. We'll have to have water."

"You can have mine," Hodges said.

Henry stared at his back. He didn't turn away from the microwave.

"It's okay we can have water."

Hodges walked over to the refrigerator, pulled out his carton of milk, and put it on the table next to Jason.

"Jason can have it," Hodges told him.

Henry wasn't sure what to make of the action. Hodges was not known for being nice.

"It's the Jasonator!" Archie cried as he came in the door.

"ARCHIE!" Jason cried, jumping up and running to him.

Archie swept him into a hug and then started spinning.

"Archie, don't make him sick again!" Henry said.

Archie stopped and pretended to be dizzy as he swayed his way over to the refrigerator.

"WhooooAaaooOOO!" Jason said.

Archie got out his sack lunch and sat down on Jason's other side.

"Peanut butter and ham again?" Archie asked Jason.

"Yep!"

"And milk?"

"He gave it to me. I don't know his name." Jason pointed at Hodges.

He was sitting down across from Archie.

"Hodges gave you the milk?"

"Yeah. He's nice."

Archie and Henry stared at Hodges, but he didn't agree or deny Jason's accusation. They started eating.

"So can you tell me the secret, Henry?"

"What secret?"

"The Wall. What's that?"

Archie and Hodges both glared at Henry.

"Catherine mentioned it."

"And does he, you know, know?" Hodges asked.

"No. I can't tell you, Jason. It's a secret."

"Oh," Jason said. He looked at his sandwich in disappointment.

Had Henry and Archie been looking, they would have seen a very rare expression come across Hodges face: compassion. But it was gone before he spoke.

"He could see it. I don't think it hurt," Hodges said.

The two were shocked.

"What?" Archie asked.

"Do you mean it?"

"Sure."

Archie leaned forward. "The others might not like that."

"David and Warrick both showed their wives and didn't tell us for months. Grissom let Catherine, Brass, David, and Robbins on it. I think we could pull a little blackmail if they say anything."

"See what?" Jason asked.

"The Wall," Henry answered and without missing a beat, "Are you sure Hodges?"

"Why would I joke about this?" Hodges snapped.

Henry looked at his plate. "Okay. I won't ask again."

"We'll go see it when we're done here."

Henry and Archie didn't argue. But the prospect of learning one of his big brother's secrets kept a smile on Jason's face.

#

The door opened slowly and Hodges flicked the light switch as he entered. Archie followed him in and turned to help Jason through the space. Henry followed close behind, keeping one hand out to catch him if he tripped. Jason walked into the room, looking around it.

"This is it?" Jason asked. He sounded disappointed.

"Do you remember when I told you there's this room at work that we laugh in all the time?"

"Yeah?"

"Well, this is it. Everything written on the walls makes us laugh."

"Why?"

"Because we make fun of things that upset us at work."

Jason looked around the room, clearly not getting it. Henry smiled, crouching down and holding out his chalk. "Ok, so the real big secret is that in here, you can draw on the walls."

Jason took the chalk. "Can I draw on the floor?"

"You can."

Jason beamed, trotting over to a corner. He knelt down and started drawing. Henry stood up and sat down on the edge of the table. Hodges and Archie sat down with him, each man searching for the continuation of the list.

"You know, maybe it's the accent or his expertise that always trips me up, but I just do not peg Bobby as a science fiction fan," Archie said.

"What?"

"Over there. Number one hundred and fifty-five."

* * *

**153. I am not in need of a more suitable host body.**

* * *

Henry smiled. He knew exactly what television series that came from. "Next he'll start saying he has a worm in his head that's making him do things."

Archie and he both laughed. Hodges clearly didn't get the reference.

"Yeah, well, Nick's trying to get in trouble again, from the looks of things," Hodges said, deciding not to let them dwell on their private joke.

* * *

**154. I should not speculate on the penis size of anyone who outranks me. **

* * *

The three chuckled.

"I wonder who he did that to," Archie said.

"Ecklie, probably," Hodges said. "After all he probably has one the size of a grape."

"What's the size of a grape?" Jason asked.

Archie and Hodges started laughing.

Henry smiled. "A co-worker's brain."

That made the two laughed harder.

Jason looked up at him. "Whose?"

"No one you met tonight."

Jason went back to working on his masterpiece.

"Oh! One hundred and fifty-eight is… Wow. Good advice for us men," Archie laughed. "And it looks like Gina and Catherine are conspiring!"

* * *

**155. If a female co-worker is pmsing, you may not argue with her even if she is wrong, and you may only approach with offerings of chocolate.**

* * *

"But if you think that's bad, I was there when Ecklie caught Greg doing that," Hodges told them.

* * *

**156. Never, ever, make weird faces behind your supervisor's back while in any lab – chances are he or she are facing a reflective surface.**

* * *

"Doing what?" Jason asked.

"Greg, the guy with the crazy hair, he made faces behind his boss's back, and got caught!" Hodges told him.

"How?" Jason asked, turning to them.

"His boss was facing this machine that was shiny like a mirror, so when Greg did it his boss saw him?"

"Grissom saw him?"

"No. It was his boss Ecklie."

"Why would he do that?"

"Ecklie can be not so nice," Henry told him.

"Oh. Okay." Jason went back to his drawing.

"So who do you think caught Greg doing that?" Archie asked.

* * *

**157. I should not use city resources to "waterproof" porn magazines.**

* * *

"Grissom," Henry and Hodges answered in unison.

"Doing what?"

"Destroying magazines," Henry lied. "We needed the magazines for something."

Archie giggled.

"That's bad to destroy magazines other people need."

"Yep." Henry said, trying not to laugh.

"And it's Nick! Again! Doesn't he _ever_ learn?"

* * *

**158. Not allowed to use a crime scene broadsword to disprove "The pen is mightier than the sword."**

* * *

Jason got up and walked over to Henry. "Do what?"

Henry reached down and pulled him up to sit on his lap. "You remember Nick?"

"He's the one that sounds funny."

"He has an accent cuz he's from Texas."

"The one with yellow hair?"

"That's Bobby. Nick has dark hair. Like I do."

"Oh yeah! He gave me a sucker when I was playing in Grissom's office."

"That's the one. Well, when he goes to the places he does his jobs, he's not supposed to touch anything, see. And at this one, he apparently used a sword he wasn't supposed to.

"Ohhhhh. Why?"

"He was being silly."

"And still being silly. What's with the clowns?"

* * *

**159. There are no evil clowns living in the morgue drawers.**

* * *

"I don't know, but he does seem to have something against them."

"What does it say? Where are you looking?" Jason asked.

Henry pointed at it. "See the one that has a one and then a six and then a three?"

Jason nodded and Henry read it to him. Jason looked up at him.

"Why would he say that?"

"We aren't really sure," Archie told him. "Nick has never liked clowns."

"Was one mean to him?"

"Maybe," Hodges said. "What would make you think of that?"

Archie and Henry looked at him, surprised he was involving the child in his conversation.

"Well, I don't like guys in chicken suits, cuz one chased me once."

"What?" Hodges asked, looking at Henry.

"Some guy down on the strip was in a chicken suit. He wanted to shake Jason hand and it scared him. He chased him until he hid behind me."

"There is so much about your parents I never knew."

Henry laughed. Jason smiled, but his expression was confused.

"And Bobby is back with his science fiction interest!" Archie said.

* * *

**160. Our SUVs cannot be assembled into Transformers®.**

* * *

"Aawwwwww. We can't change our vehicles into Transformers? How sad." Henry looked down at Jason. "Isn't that sad?"

"Maybe if it were Primus or Bumblebee you could."

"Maybe," Archie agreed.

"Archie, why did you write that?" Hodges asked.

* * *

**161. A/V equipment you are not trained on, you are not allowed to try breaking.**

* * *

"Because our CSI like to break equipment they don't know how to use. I thought that might help keep their grubby hands off my very posh equipment."

"Posh?" Henry asked.

"What's posh?" Jason asked.

Hodges answered, "Expensive and really nice."

"Is the TV posh?" Jason asked.

"I guess so. It cost enough."

"And what's with yours, Henry?" Hodges asked.

Henry grinned, reading out loud:

* * *

**162. If you can't convince them, confuse them.**

* * *

"What's that mean?" Jason asked.

"It's a joke."

"Uh-huh," Archie said.

"It is!"

"Joke my as—foot!" Hodges said.

"Nice. Nice recovery. Okay, I gotta get back to work," Archie said, sliding off the table.

"Me too," Hodges slid off, following him out.

"See you two upstairs," Archie said as he left.

Henry watched them leave, and then wrapped his arms around his little brother.

"I love you," he told him.

Jason laid his head against his shoulder. "Henry?"

"Hm?"

"I like your friends here. Do you think Grissom would let me stay again some time?"

"When he gets back, we'll ask, okay?"

Jason nodded. He looked up at him.

"I miss mom and dad, Henry."

Henry kissed his forehead, sliding off the table. He missed them too, but he didn't like telling Jason that. The child had a hard enough time dealing with his own loss. Henry sat him down at the door and helped him out. He reached back, shutting the light off and closing the door. Jason took his hand as they started walking.

"I love you too," Jason said.

Henry smiled, squeezing his hand. "What did you think of The Wall?"

"It was more of a room. Can I keep this chalk?"

"Yeah. You can keep it."

"Can we draw on the driveway when we get home?"

"After I've had a nap we can."

Jason was silent all the way to the elevator. He suddenly looked up to Henry.

"I really like it."

"Like what?"

"The Wall. And I promise I won't tell anyone ever."

"Thought you might."

Jason beamed.


	14. The Wall Warden

14) The Wall Warden

It was as if a text bomb had suddenly hit the lab. CSI and lab tech's phones went off, alerting them to a short blurb waiting for them. Archie's watch, having acute hearing compared to its human counterpart, heard most of the phones. Before Archie could even reach for his cell phone, the clamshell device had already told the watch what the message was. Archie's watch knew its wearer was not going to like what he was about to read.

Meanwhile and almost simultaneously – as much as one can get if you're holding a heart, or tire tread, or just about to take a bite of your hero sandwich – they checked their waiting messages. On each of their phones Ecklie 'yelled' at them: ALL WALL CREW REPORT TO YOUR ROOM, NOW!

'He'd found it!' and 'He'd found it?' were the thoughts that crossed their mind (although not in the same order for each Wall Crew member. And Grissom never thought it as an exclamation at all.)

While David and Robbins could have migrated right to the room, they instead put down what they were working on, pulled off their surgical gowns, and waited in the hall for the others.

Above them the group hurried to the elevator. No one said anything when they saw the other. Just as Archie's watch knew why there were pressed into the small descending box, they didn't have to ask why the others were there.

"What do you think he's going to do, Grissom?" Greg asked in a hushed voice.

The watch mused he was asking quiet because of the confined space, not out of respect. Archie's watch though that particular human could be awfully boisterous and rambunctious at times. He had come dangerously close to causing permanent damage to Archie's watch during a few games of impromptu football games.

"Hard to tell," Grissom said. "Let me do the talking."

The watch agreed to that suggestion.

Catherine lifted her eyebrows at him. "How about you let me talk to him? You and Conrad get along _so_ well."

The watch did not agree to that suggestion. Calm the female was, but sometimes she became quite loud when responding to other humans, and Archie's watch found loud female voices disturbed its synchronicity. Too bad it couldn't tell its wearer about that and be taken to a competent repairman. It liked the ones with the Swedish accents the best.

"If you insist."

"You were supposed to fight that."

"That would be foolish."

She frowned at him.

The doors opened and as one the group headed for records with David and Robbins falling in. They came into records and saw Ecklie waiting at the far end leaning against the wall. At his feet were two buckets. They approached him and his smile grew. To them it looked like one of pure malice, evil in the making. What was he going to do to their sanctuary?

"See, I wasn't sure just how many there were, but I suspected it was all of you," Ecklie said.

"How did you find out?" Archie demanded.

"I know it wasn't because any of us told you. We wouldn't tell you if our grandma died," Warrick snarled.

His smile faded. He stood up, pointing at the buckets. "You will go clean off every derogatory remark in there. I don't care if no one else knows about it or not, you'll clean it off."

"Conrad, we aren't going to do that," Catherine told him. "Some of the things in there are old. We need—"

"Room for more rules," Ecklie added.

Silence. The kind of silence that follows a poorly placed, and often distasteful joke. Or when a father just found out that his baby girl and her boyfriend have had sex. It was the deep, intense silence that followed two characters in a movie right before the bridge broke out from underneath them. If they had listened harder, they could have heard each other's eyes blink. Archie's watch did.

"What?" Grissom asked. He was fairly certain he'd caught the insinuation to what Ecklie had just said, but he needed clarification. He needed to know he hadn't mistaken what Ecklie was not telling them.

"You need more room for rules. There's no space left. Probably wouldn't hurt to write smaller. There's water and rags. Remove everything that's derogatory, starting with comments about me. Maybe think about removing some of the other stuff that isn't important." Ecklie started through the group, adding, "And move the filing cabinets to the right a few inches. It's really hard to get in there. And I don't want to see another requisition for chalk. This isn't a department run project; we don't pay for the chalk."

The group watched him leave. After he had left, they stared at the door closing behind him. Once it had closed, they stared at the general area he had departed in. If the bridge could have dropped, now probably would have been better than it had been earlier.

Lucky for them, Archie's watch wasn't as concerned about the events that transpired. In fact, it had watched them come and go without much care as to why its owner was shocked. It didn't really know what the big commotion was. It had watched the buckets with a wary eye. One was full of rags; the other was half full of water. It was a water resistant watch, not waterproof, so water always made it a little nervous. In light of that, it decided to alert its owner that it was now four in the morning with a happy chorus of beeping.

Archie responded to his watch's reminder. He looked first at the buckets, then up at Grissom.

"What do we do now, Grissom?" Archie asked.

Grissom would have laughed as each pair of eyes turned to him. Suddenly he felt like the leader of lemmings.

"I think we might have hurt Conrad's feelings," Gina said.

That turned the attention away from Grissom instantly.

"That man doesn't have feelings to hurt," Nick said.

"That's not true, Nick. There are very few humans that don't have emotional responses," Grissom corrected.

"Yeah, and Ecklie's one of them."

"Why do you think we hurt his feelings?" Catherine asked Gina.

"He looked kinda sad when Warrick said that remark about us not telling him if our grandma died."

Grissom had noticed that show of emotion, however brief it was.

"We need to do as he asks. We are running out of room for the rules," Grissom said.

"But you're the one that goes on about the posterity of the room and all that," Greg argued.

"Then we need to document it. Someone go get a camera. We'll get photos and then clean off what can be erased."

"This sucks!" Greg said, leaving to get the camera.

Grissom didn't agree. Of all the things in his life that had ever 'sucked,' this paled in comparison. Grissom picked up the bucket of water and rags.

"Nick, Warrick, move the filing cabinets a little."

"Are we really going to do this, Grissom? Really?" Nick asked.

"Yes. We really are. Go move the filing cabinets a little."

Warrick and Nick exchanged frowns, but obeyed him. They moved them only a few inches and when Grissom didn't order them moved more, they squeezed through the space into the room. The others followed them in, not sure what to expect when they got into the room.

To everyone's relief, the room didn't look any different and nothing had changed. Grissom sat the buckets on the table.

"Got the camera," Greg told him as he came into the room.

"Get the pictures and we'll get started."

They stood in a silent huddle while Greg started snapping off photos. He stopped suddenly.

"Uhm… The last time we were in here, we were at what number?"

"When Hodges, Henry and I were in here last, it was one-hundred and sixty four."

"Okay… So…" Greg turned. "Do you realize we're almost at two hundred?"

It made the others start counting up the rules.

"Bobby, you can't have that rule," Catherine said.

"What one?"

"One sixty-five. I mean, it's a God given right of CSI to ask this question."

* * *

**163. While in ballistics, you may no longer wonder out loud why criminals aren't smart. If they were **_**smart**_**, we would be unemployed.**

* * *

"Not in ballistics it's not!"

"And why not?" Archie asked.

"Cuz, like I wrote, if they were smart, we'd be unemployed. How much simpler you want it?"

"Since when do we call the shoot tank the magic bullet catcher?" Grissom asked.

* * *

**164. Rubbing the 'magical bullet catcher' does not grant wishes.**

* * *

With exception to David and Robbins, all fingers pointed at Warrick.

"Hey, I need all the luck I can get running ballistics."

"You need all the luck you can get running anything," Nick retorted.

"Okay, okay," Grissom stopped them. "Greg, finish taking the photographs."

"Grissom I thought you were like this really smart guy and stuff," Hodges said. "Has that changed?

"I am. Why do you ask?"

"You can't read Klingon?" Nick pointed at his rule.

* * *

**165. No report may be written in Klingon, Ancient, Pig Latin, or Asgard.**

* * *

"I can read many languages that have actually been spoken."

Archie's watch mocked the human. While its creator had not given it the ability to communicate in any language, it understood every language known to man, machine, or otherworldly. It was a very smart watch.

"Pig Latin is spoken." Greg argued.

To which Grissom argued back, "It's a false language."

All this arguing was rather boring Archie's watches deeply intellectual circuits. It longed for him to take it back to the lecture hall he had sat for several hours. True, its owner had slept through most of the lecture, but that was ideal for the watch. It had absorbed more information than a watch had a right to. Not that it could share this knowledge with owner, other human or even other device, but still.

"Somgrisay siyay otnay artsmay sayay ehay inksthay ehay siyay," Greg said.

Archie's watch, which was far more intelligent than any of the humans in the room, quickly translated the phrase across its circuits: _Grissom is not as smart as he thinks he is_.

Grissom retorted, "Somgrisay owsnoay exactay whenay eggray siyay inggoay otayay ebayay edfiray."

The watch would have mocked its confused wearer, had it had a voice, and told him the human had told the first one: _Grissom knows exact when Greg is going to be fired_.

Even if what she said was lost on the others, the tone Catherine used was very clear, "Ayplay icenay oybay!"

The watch was impressed, not just that the female unit had perfect Pig Latin enunciation, but that she spoke it without a hint of hesitation unlike the males had. It recognized her order as: _Play nice boys_!

Greg and Grissom both looked at her.

"I have a teenager-ay," Catherine explained.

"So now that we know you guys can talk about us behind our backs," Archie said.

"And it would take us a few days to figure out what was said," Henry added.

"We can talk about why Warrick would have needed to add one hundred sixty-eight in the first place." Archie smiled, because he knew the story. "Why would you add that, Warrick?"

* * *

**166. Electronic equipment that is not working in the field won't get fixed by letting it take a dip in the pool.**

* * *

"I toss one electroscope in a wading pond and you never let me live it down."

So that's what happened to his brother in electronics! The watch would have sought revenge… Except it had a small issue of lacking legs or arms.

"It was a very expensive electroscope in the deep end of a pool."

"It was a piece of junk that needed repaired."

"Which I told you I had. You just didn't know how to use it."

"You're the one giving things love taps!" Henry told Archie, hoping to stop the banter.

* * *

**167. Electronic equipment that is not working in the lab should not get a 'love tap with a hammer.'**

* * *

Yes. The watch had witnessed Archie's often abusive nature with his fellow electronic brothers. It would have been embarrassing if he ever found himself admitting this was his owner.

"Whose side are you on? CSI or lab rats?"

"The one with the largest player."

They laughed at the answer. The watch, however, understood how siding with large allies could be beneficial. It found the answer quite logical.

"And when you give that equipment love taps, Archie, don't blame it on me any more." Greg pointed at his addition before snapping off another photo.

* * *

**168. And if you give said electronic equipment a 'love tap with a hammer,' blame it on someone who is working another shift, on vacation, or on leave.**

* * *

"Are you telling me Greg really didn't break the electronic nose?" Catherine asked.

"Electronic polymer sensor proboscis," Grissom corrected her.

Thank you, the watch thought.

Archie looked away, blushing. She forced a smile.

"It's always the innocent looking, quiet ones."

"You mean like ol' Nick here?" Warrick motioned at the wall.

* * *

**169. Shouting "Let's do the village! Let's do the whole fucking village!" while at a large crime scene is bad.**

* * *

They laughed at Nick.

"Oh go ahead. Laugh it up!" Nick said, pretending to be mad. "At least I'm not graceful like Warrick here."

* * *

**170. Asphalt does not taste like chicken.**

* * *

Warrick didn't find their laughing response nearly as funny. The watch didn't either.

"Okay, so I learned not to try working on the tailgate when speed demon Nick says, 'I'll go slow!'."

"What does asphalt taste like?" David asked.

"Dirt!"

That made them laugh harder and Warrick cracked a small smile.

The watch didn't find it funny. His little mishap had cost the watch a dear friend when he'd landed and broke his watch's face. It never returned after that night.

"Greg, what shirt did you wear?" Robbins asked.

Greg turned, looking at the next rule.

* * *

**171. I may no longer wear a questionable logo or graphic T-shirt "out of respect of the recently departed."**

* * *

"It ah… It… Just… It was just a shirt."

"That said, as I recall," Grissom told them, "Where's the morgue? I need a cold one."

Greg's cheeks brightened, which made the others laugh, and made the redness spread.

"I have to have that shirt!" David said.

"It was inappropriate to wear to a crime scene."

"The guy died from alcohol poisoning. I was honoring his last wishes."

"Last wishes?" Gina asked.

"He died drinking and happy."

They booed him.

"Hey, at least I don't drive everyone insane with those stupid songs!" Greg motioned at the next rule written by Nick.

* * *

**172. Two songs not to be sung while processing a bus: "The Wheels On the Bus Go Round and Round" and "Magic Bus."**

* * *

"I thought we were going to have to kill Nick that day!" Warrick said.

"And more than once," Catherine added. "Because he was so hyper I don't think one death would have done the job!"

"I was having a good day! I didn't see anything wrong with the songs."

"Except you sang them over and over and over and over and over," Catherine told him. "For four hours straight! And if you ever, _ever_ do it again, I'm firing you for being a moral killer."

"Moral— Now, see, Grissom, see what abuse I have to put up with out in the field."

"Sounds to me like you were serving the abuse."

Warrick and Catherine both laughed at Nick.

"Awww. I see how it is. I know when I'm being ganged up on." Nick turned to the wall. "HEY! Greg! Why did you add that?"

Greg looked at the rule he'd added:

* * *

**173. The Sims® or The Sims 2® may not be used to recreate a crime scene.**

* * *

"That was Grissom's idea," Greg answered.

"What? Grissom! We need that so we can create accurate scenes when our other software decides to crash. All night. Because of Archie's work."

"My work doesn't cause it to crash."

"Because it feels like it."

"It's a software application. It doesn't have feelings."

Archie's watch begged to differ with that answer.

"Because it's… Not as cool."

"Nor may you se the other one, either," Grissom told him.

* * *

**174. SimCity 4® may not be used to recreate a crime scene.**

* * *

"Grissom, we spent hours getting Las Vegas just right," Greg argued. "I mean… Me, Archie and Nick spent two days designing all the hotels, creating houses and warehouses, just so we could have the town exactly like Las Vegas."

"Since when have we ever had a crime scene involving an alien invasion?"

"We have that Star Trek convention every year."

"Which we've never had a crime at, and even if we did, they would not be real aliens."

"When they get drunk enough, they think they are," Greg argued. "That's why you need to learn how to speak Klingon, Grissom."

"I am not learning a fictitious language."

"Okay. Okay. You got us on that, I guess," Nick said, "But you have to admit, the terrain we got in Starcraft resembles the hills. Why did you ban that?"

Grissom looked at the next rule:

* * *

**175. Halo®, Doom®, World of Warcraft®, Starcraft®, or any other game LVPD does not have a license for, will not be used to recreate a crime scene.**

* * *

He looked at each of them. "I didn't write that one. That's not my handwriting."

"Come on, Grissom. Even I know you've been after these guys about using their games to recreate crime scenes," Robbins told him

"I didn't write the next rule. That's not my handwriting."

They stared at rule one hundred and seventy. Gina was the first to recognize it.

"Ecklie!" she gasped.

"What?" Nick asked, looking at the door.

"Ecklie wrote that!" she said, smiling.

They looked at each other, Gina, the rule, back at Gina, back at each other.

The watch had no opinion. It couldn't see the writing to form one.

"That means… He wrote these next seven," Greg said.

"Ecklie?" Nick asked. "Ecklie who never has a hair out of place and rides our ass wrote rules on our wall?"

"And… They're… Kinda funny," Archie added.

* * *

**176. The voices in your head do not have higher superiority than your supervisor.**

**177. The 'Hodges Experience' needs to stay home.**

**178. You are not allowed to pretend you have a mustache with fingerprint dust.**

**179. You are not allowed to blame past lives on your current actions.**

**180. You are no longer allowed to conceal Vodka in any container in the lab for any reason, including, "I was using it as a control substance."**

**181. You may not mock command decisions in front of the press.**

**182. Today is **_**not**_** a good day to die.**

* * *

The watch was even surprised as they read off the rules. He didn't like the Ecklie watch. It was all glitter, but little else. And it always snubbed Archie's watch when it passed in the hall.

"I have to admit… I never saw that one coming," Catherine said.

"Neither did I," Grissom admitted.

"Ecklie has a sense of humor… That just blows my mind," David said.

"I told you we hurt his feelings earlier," Gina said.

Grissom sighed, turning and picking up a rag. "Greg, are you finished?"

"Except the wall you guys are against, yeah."

"Okay, let's start with all the derogatory remarks and see what that leaves us."

They each grabbed rags and dampened them, then went to work on the walls to remove remarks. Greg finished snapping off the photos and sat the camera down, grabbing his own rag.

Archie's watch was content. In the silence like this, with so many other watches in the room, it could hear the steady ticking of their gears. And while the humans would never hear it, the watches listened to the steady stream of unspoken thought flowing steadily from their wear's mind.

#

Archie's watch listened to its wearer tip-tapping the keyboard keys as Archie filled out a report. It was a lulling sound, a sound that would have put the watch to sleep, had it slept at all. Suddenly, it was alert, hearing an intriguing conversation somewhere nearby.

"Thank you for leaving the room alone, Conrad. You would have had a riot if you'd ordered them to remove it."

"Just them, Gil?"

There was no response.

"I think I've figured out its secret," Ecklie told Grissom.

"Pardon?"

"With day and swing I have incidents and behavior problems that appear and can linger for months. Your team used to be that way too. Then, suddenly, that all changed. Now I understand why. I'm not going to remove it because it seems to be a very efficient coaching tool."

"I look at it more as a therapy tool."

There was a pause again.

"Why can't it be both?" Ecklie asked.

There was a long, long pause. The watch heard a tone it rarely heard in the Grissom human's voice when he spoke again: amazement.

"I suppose it could be, Conrad."

"Just keep it upbeat. Derogatory doesn't help in therapy or coaching."

"No. It doesn't. I'll mention that next time we meet."

"At The Wall?"

"How do you know that's the name? I have to know."

Ecklie chuckled. "If I was as dumb and deaf as you and your team think I am, I wouldn't be in my position for very long. But even I know how to listen to your tracks when you aren't looking, Gil. Don't you have some evidence to be running right now?"

The watch heard Grissom make a sound close to a snort, but not quite. "Thanks for the chat, Ecklie."

And the conversation ended just like that. The watch went back to listening to the tip-tapping of the keys, pondering the strange complexities of humans and their even stranger, complex relations with each another.


	15. Six Month Anniversary

15) Six Month Anniversary

Mandy walked up to Grissom's door, knocking.

He looked up from the paper he was scribbling away on.

"You wanted to see me?" she asked.

"Yes. Please. Have a seat," Grissom motioned to the chair in front of his desk.

Mandy walked in and sat down. Grissom never asked to see her. It wasn't like he avoided her or anything, but usually their conversations were the passing of evidence and her coming to him with the results. Not much else happened between them.

"How are you doing?" Grissom asked.

"Good."

"Glad that the holidays are over?"

"Actually, yes. It's kind of nice to have a moment to breathe."

He smiled, nodding. "It is. Do you know what today is?"

She hesitated because she didn't know. "Should I?"

"You should. Today you've been here for six months." Grissom finished writing and looked up at her. "Congratulations."

She beamed. She actually did know that. Gina had left her a packet covering all her benefits and the little perks she would get now that she was officially a LVPD employee.

"Thank you."

"So do you have any goals in mind?"

"Not yet. Nothing's opened up yet, has it?"

"There might be some options soon, but I can't say with any certainty."

She smiled, nodding.

"There is one benefit of your six months that we just started not too long ago." Grissom opened a desk drawer and fished around in it.

"What's that?"

He took out a keycard and sat it down on the edge of the desk in front of her. "It's nothing as beneficial as health benefits or a fitness club membership. Frankly, I just learned it was even given on an employee's six month anniversary."

She reached out, picking up the keycard and turning it over. There was no identification on it. She looked up at him.

"What's this for?"

He smiled. "Do you have plans after your shift today?"

"No. Why?"

"Then meet me in the morgue when your shift is over. That's a very important key to us on the graveyard."

"Should I be worried?"

"No more than usual."

That worried her. "Does this involve Hodges?"

"It does."

"I don't think I'm interested in whatever this is." She sat the key down on the desk.

"Tell you what, why don't you let me show you what it is in the morning, and then decide if you're still not interested. It is an optional benefit, after all."

She wanted to know what exactly it was that he wasn't telling her.

"And by the way, you'll have a good review in your file." Grissom signed off on her review that he'd been writing when she'd walked in.

"Thanks. Can I go now?"

"Sure."

Mandy stood, staring at the keycard for a minute. She reached down and snatched it up, then walked out. She looked back to make sure Grissom wasn't grinning with some evil thought, and he wasn't. He had moved on to someone else's review. She looked at the keycard as she walked through the hall.

#

Mandy walked into the morgue, finding David, Robbins and Grissom standing around an exam table talking. It was an empty and clean table, but it still kind of creeped her out.

"She came!" David said with a smile.

"I wasn't sure you were going to come," Grissom said.

"Okay. I came. Why am I here again?"

"Come with us," Robbins said and the three headed for the door.

She turned, following them. They continued their conversation as they walked, turning in the direction of records. The three stopped at the door, their conversation dying for a moment.

"Use your keycard," Grissom motioned at the card reader by the door. "You did bring it, didn't you?"

She pulled the blank card out and swiped it. The doors unlocked and the four went inside. The conversation picked up again as they walked.

"Why are we in records?"

"There's a secret down here," David answered.

"What secret?"

"That's part of the secret," David told her.

She didn't like that answer, so she asked Grissom, "What's going on, Grissom?"

"I told you. This is part of your benefits package."

"Getting a keycard to records? I work in the lab. I don't need records access."

Grissom glanced at her. "I don't remember you being this impatient before."

"I'm tired."

"Aw. Well, we'll be quick about this then."

They turned at the last aisle. Warrick was waiting at the end leaning against the cabinets.

"Ecklie just called and he's coming too," Warrick said.

"Why?" Grissom asked.

"Something about his job since it's one of his employee's six month anniversary."

"Let's go in and start without him," Robbins said.

Grissom squeezed through the space between the cabinets and wall and opened the door. Talking and light erupted from the room, surprising Mandy. Robbins and David followed him and Warrick waited.

"You have to go in, Mandy," Warrick told her.

"What's in there?"

"It's a good thing. Go in."

Mandy looked into the room as Catherine came into view. She stood at the wall and began writing on it in chalk. Intrigued, Mandy walked into the room. The rest of The Wall Crew were in the room and offered a warm reception when she came in. Hodges sidled up to her.

"So, you are now officially part of The Wall Crew." He presented a piece of chalk. "And it is your duty to add items to the things lab rats, and CSI, aren't allowed to do anymore."

She took the chalk, admitting, "I don't understand."

He pointed to the first part of the list, at the title. "This. Read a few, you'll catch on."

Mandy started reading the list.

"Archie, who are you talking about?" Greg asked, reading over Archie's shoulder as he wrote:

* * *

**183. Co-workers who wear cologne or perfume that can be smelled three halls away, will be considered a fire hazard and require immediate fire retardant application.**

* * *

"The guy's on swing. I think his name is Rudy or something like that. Anytime I need him for anything, I just have to follow his smell."

"Oh!" Nick said. "He wears that really cheap stuff that smells like dirty socks."

"You know," Hodges told them, "It's proven that the smell of perfume and cologne changes with each person's body chemistry. Maybe someone should recommend he wear it on his clothes instead."

"Hodges, the guy bathes in that stuff. We don't want to know if that's how it really smells or not."

"I think he thinks that it's an aphrodisiac," Archie said.

"Kinda like Nicky's alien abductee the other day," Greg said.

Nick laughed. "That guy was off his rocker."

"His medication made him delusional," Grissom told him. "It wasn't his fault."

"He was off his rocker," Nick repeated.

"Convincing him the aliens had sent you to make contact with the KGB in his head was not the best way to question him."

"Oh fine!" Nick wrote the next rule:

* * *

**184. Not allowed to play into the deluded fantasies of the civilians who are 'hearing conversations' from the NSA, FBI, CIA and KGB due to the microchip the aliens implanted in their brain.**

* * *

"And while you're at things you shouldn't do with witnesses, Nicky," Catherine began, "I think football games fall into that category."

"He was a jerk. He needed a little smack down."

"How was taunting a suspect that your team is winning fall under _smack down_ or questioning, for that matter?"

Nick added one more rule:

* * *

**185. When I report to a crime scene, and a football game is on, I am no longer allowed to taunt the suspect(s) that my team is beating theirs.**

* * *

"Happy?" he asked her.

"And glow sticks are not called—"

"Yeah, yeah." Nick added the next rule.

* * *

**186. We do not refer to glow sticks as 'those bright, shiny objects that make a satisfying crunch when you crack them.'**

* * *

"Anything else?"

Grissom wrote the next one:

* * *

**187. No longer allowed to bet with even one co-worker on a crime scene or evidence.**

* * *

That received a resounding boo. Mandy laughed, joining her co-workers. She looked up when someone came up beside her and stared. Ecklie was watching Grissom write as he rolled up his sleeves. He wasn't going to yell at them for defacing city property? Her eyes stopped on the piece of chalk he was holding. Was Ecklie really planning on defacing city property with them? He noticed her staring.

"Morning Mandy."

"Morning," she said.

He smiled at her. "I told you six month anniversaries were revered by the night shift."

"Yes, you did. I completely misunderstood what you meant."

They conversation was interrupted when Robbins tapped his cane on the cement floor.

"I'd like to add that if this next rule is broken, I will enforce it with the coldest water I have available in the morgue."

Robbins turned and wrote:

* * *

**188. The morgue is not Motel 6.**

* * *

Gina trotted over, adding:

* * *

**189. Sleeping under the receptionist desk is no longer permitted.**

* * *

"Who did that?" Catherine asked.

All eyes turned to Nick.

"What? I didn't sleep under the desk."

"You were sleeping there two nights ago."

"That wasn't me. That was my twin."

"And last week I found you sleeping on the exam table in the back," Robbins told him.

"It wasn't occupied!"

"Next time I'll just start throwing ice at you," Gina threatened. "You scared me half to death when you started snoring."

"I don't snore."

"You snore."

"I do not snore!"

"You snore," Greg and Warrick told him.

"I snore?"

"You snore," Greg, Warrick and Gina answered.

"Now that we've figured that out," Catherine said. "I think it's time to pick on Archie. So, tell me, Archie, why did I get that angry parent Monday morning? I'm still a little fuzzy about that."

"Oh… That." Archie smiled, but didn't continue.

"Yes?" Grissom asked.

"Well… I… Uhm… It was a misunderstanding."

"Such as?"

Archie spun around and wrote:

* * *

**190. When a child from a tour group asks you how something works, it is ill advised to use so much technical lingo that the child cries and the guardian accuses of you of a pornographic answer.**

* * *

"See? Harmless."

Catherine pointed to the rule she wrote.

* * *

**191. It is ill to refer the angry guardians to your supervisor because "she has a kid and can explain it's not a pornographic answer."**

* * *

"Not so simple. Do it again and I will make your life miserable, lab rat."

"I was just trying to clarify the situation to the kids."

"Uh-huh."

"I was!"

"Oh. Speaking of clarity," David said, adding:

* * *

**192. We already know the deceased is dead when we arrive. There is no need to announce, "Bring out your dead!"**

* * *

"Ah come on!" Greg cried. "That's half the fun of dead people." He ignored Grissom's stern stare.

"It is real fun, David. You can't forbid that," Nick argued.

"I can, and I have."

Nick looked at Warrick. "We're going to have to think of something else more annoying now."

Warrick nodded.

"Henry… What?" Grissom asked, pointing to his newly added rule.

* * *

**193. There is no such thing as were-virgins.**

* * *

"Lab rat conversation."

"Involving what?"

"Werewolves," the lab rats answered in unison.

"What?" Grissom asked.

"Long, long, loooooong story," Mandy told him as she walked to a wall and added her own rule:

* * *

**194. Stop encouraging Hodges's game!**

* * *

"What's wrong with my game?" Hodges asked.

"You're annoying everyone with it."

"I'm not annoyed with it," Grissom admitted.

"Speak for yourself," Catherine shot back.

"Speaking of annoying, I found one the other day we should avoid," Brass said as he began writing:

* * *

**195. Must not taunt police officers who are in the throes of nicotine withdrawal, with cigarettes.**

* * *

"AND…" Brass said, adding his next rule.

* * *

**196. Detective Brass is not to be referred to as either 'hell on wheels' or 'the old man.'**

* * *

"But you are hell on wheels," Greg argued. "You killed that guy's trash can."

"He was running from us."

"But you killed the trash can."

Brass rolled his eyes.

"While we're on the topic of inanimate objects, _Greg_," Grissom trailed off as he wrote:

* * *

**197. You do not have to identify yourself as CSI to crime scene plants.**

* * *

Everyone laughed, including Greg.

"Finally, there is an end!" Nick cried out.

"Thank you Grissom!" Warrick added.

"The crime scene plants are living beings, and they need to know who we are. They might have to testify someday."

"When pigs fly, maybe," Ecklie told him.

"Yes. Yes, it may be then, but you will all be sorry because we can't have them do it since we never identified ourselves to them."

"I think the plants are the least of our worries," Ecklie told him.

Mandy stared in shock as Ecklie added a rule:

* * *

**198. Do not taunt members of the press.**

* * *

"But they deserve it," Catherine retorted.

That surprised Mandy even more.

"Maybe, but we can't let them know that we know they deserve it," Ecklie argued. He looked across the room. "Tattoos, Henry?"

They looked at the rule he just wrote.

* * *

**199. I am not allowed to give tattoos.**

* * *

"Who—" Bobby began.

"Long story."

"How long?"

"We'll be here until next shift starts."

"Moving on," Mandy said, adding her next rule:

* * *

**200. Inflatable sheep are not to be seen performing lab duties.**

* * *

There was silence. She turned, looking right at Bobby. Everyone else looked at Bobby.

"What?" he asked.

"What is that about?" Grissom asked.

"Sammy was test firing weapons again, wasn't he?" Greg asked.

"Whose Sammy?" Nick asked.

"Bobby's inflatable sheep," Archie said.

"The better question is: _why_ do you have an inflatable sheep?" Catherine asked.

Bobby's brow dipped. "I've had it since I was in college."

"And why did you have it in college?"

"A girlfriend gave it to me."

"Why?" Nick asked.

"I dunno, really. I can't remember that far back."

"But you remember the girlfriend that gave it to you?" Grissom asked.

"Not really. I just remember it was _a_ girlfriend. Couldn't tell you which one."

"Which one? You had more than one girlfriend in college?"

"Yeah. Lots. They always said they enjoyed that I—"

Mandy cut him off crying, "Topic change! So Archie and Hodges, this is just for you two."

* * *

**201. Revenge will be swift and embarrassing in response to practical jokes involving containers mislabeled 'corrosive' or 'explosive.'**

* * *

"They've been doing that?" Catherine asked.

"Oh yeah." She turned to Catherine. "To everyone. But maybe you should ask how it started."

"How did it start?" Catherine asked.

Mandy wrote:

* * *

**202. Be nice to your lab rats. You have to go to crime scenes, they don't.**

* * *

"Nick! Greg!"

"I didn't do anything," Nick said.

Catherine looked at Greg.

"I didn't do anything."

"You're expecting us to believe that."

Warrick started laughing.

"You?" Hodges asked. "You're the one that put the water in my locker?"

"Rigged my chair to fall apart?" Archie asked.

"Loaded all the test weapons with rubber bullets?" Bobby asked.

"And I suppose you were behind the mislabeled canisters," Mandy said.

"Naw. That I'm completely innocent of."

"This means revenge!" Hodges threatened.

"I'll pretend I never heard that," Ecklie told them.

"And now," Hodges began. He picked up a chair and carried it over to the door. He shut it and sat the chair against it, climbing onto it. "With new members, we have to update our list." He turned and added a line below the first.

One by one they added their initials to the list. When Gina stepped down last, there was a moment of silence.

**The Wall Crew – 2008 – (DH, MW, GS, HA, WB, NS, CW, CE, GG, AJ, Gina)**

Suddenly they began talking at once. The chair was moved and the door opened, and they began filing out, leaving Mandy standing alone in the room. She turned, looking at the walls.

"A little overwhelming, isn't it?" Hodges asked behind her.

She looked back at him. "Maybe." She looked up at the list. "I've never worked anywhere with something like this." She waved her hands at the walls. "Or something like The Wall Crew. It feels kind of like a college fraternity."

"Yeah, except we don't make you get drunk and puke."

She turned, staring at him. He smiled and she was compelled to return it, even if the comparison was gross.

"I guess I'm grateful then."

"They're going to have breakfast at Frank's."

"Just The Wall Crew?"

"Usually, yeah."

"Guess we'd better hurry then." Mandy walked out the door.

Hodges shut the door and caught the light on his way out.


	16. Morning Shirk

16) Morning Shirk

Brass strolled through records. He had been yelled at, cussed at, one woman spit on him, and was reminded of why he disliked Valentine's Day. The one day a year that couples were supposed to love all each other was the one day that they seemed to love each other the least.

He stopped at the far corner in the back and from the window well above two filing cabinets, pulled out two beers. Even on the hottest day, the window well kept the beverages stored there satisfying cool. Grissom had explained why, once, but Brass tuned him out somewhere between "The reason for that…" and "So now you understand?"

Brass headed for the room. He saw a light on under the door and wondered who he was going to meet. The last person he'd met in there was Hodges – he really annoyed Brass and the morning they'd run into each other alone in the room, Brass had warned him not to talk. Whatever Hodges was going to say, save it for his cat – Hodges said he didn't have one – and spare him the merciless babbling he was so good at.

Brass slipped through the space to the door and entered the room. Nick was sitting at the table doodling and glanced up when Brass came in.

"Morning," Brass said.

"Morning." Nick said. He sounded tired.

Brass shut the door, walking over to the table. Nick had a beer sitting next to him, so Brass didn't offer one of his own. He sat down in another chair and screwed off the cap of one bottle, then sucked down a long drink.

"Rough night, huh?" Nick asked.

"Tell me about it."

Nick sat back yawning and dropped the chalk in his hand. Brass looked up at the walls, looking for where he'd last left off. He started reading.

* * *

**203. May not valiantly push police officers in front of a gunman to save pets.**

**204. Not allowed to get shot while naked, half naked, or valiantly protecting my danish.**

* * *

"Do you know the story behind Greg and Warrick's there?"

Nick looked at the two he pointed at. "Some patrolman said Greg tried to push him in front of a gunman and Greg, stupidly, said he was trying to save a pet. It almost turned into a big mess. Warrick… I dunno about Warrick's. He's been acting a little crazy since Tina and he divorced."

"Most men do after a divorce."

"Personal experience?" Nick asked.

Brass nodded.

"I see you and Catherine have figured out the basics of CSI-ing."

* * *

**205. Never leave the lab without duct tape, gloves, chewing gum, and at least one paper clip.**

**206. Diamonds are not a girl's best friend. A Glock with a full clip, fingerprint powder, and a Mag Lite® are.**

* * *

"She's a hard woman to please. Maybe we should let her future husband know about it."

"She's engaged?"

"No. Maybe someday."

"So we're talking hypothetical?"

"Very hypothetical."

"Better not let her hear you say that."

Nick leaned forward, starting to doodle again. "What's said at The Wall, stays at The Wall."

Brass chuckled. "Yes it does. So are you involved with this?"

* * *

**207. Don't write up false reports to the car pool mechanics. ("Broken clutch pedal," "Number three turbine has frequent flame-outs," "flux capacitor emits loud whine when engaged," "starboard nacelle causing navigation array disruption")**

* * *

Nick laughed. "No. No. Warrick and Greg have been doing that for the last couple of weeks after she gave Warrick a sewage reclamation and Greg a trash dump that was all intestines."

Brass laughed. "I guess you CSI have a mean streak after all."

"We're only human,"

"And I see Grissom's not too crazy with your human factor."

* * *

**208. Only say 'yes' if you actually know what the question was.**

* * *

"Yeah. I'm not really sure what that means."

"You can bet Greg was involved somehow."

"Probably. Hodges got in so much trouble for pulling that one on Gina."

* * *

**209. Never nail a stuffed bunny to a cross and put it in the reception area for Easter.**

* * *

"I heard about that. Ecklie was about ready to fire him over it. Something about it being politically incorrect."

"Something about it being sacrilege, I think was his exact words."

"Sacrilege? Ecklie knows what that means?"

Nick chuckled. "No kidding. There's times his ineptitude surprises even me."

"You know, I've heard the lab rats, and Greg, call Gina that. What does that mean?"

Nick looked back at the rule.

* * *

**210. The receptionist will no longer be referred to as "Crystal, the Happy Time sentry."**

* * *

"Oh… Some pop culture television show reference. About this girl that dies, becomes a grim reaper and something about the receptionist where she works being a lot like Gina. I don't even know what it's called. You'd have to ask one of the lab rats or Greg about it. I always thought Gina found it funny, actually."

"Guess not."

"Guess not."

"You know she likes you."

"Who?"

"Gina."

Nick looked up at him. "Gina?"

Brass slowly nodded.

"Well, that's news."

"Bet she has visions of you performing Hot Stuff instead of Warrick there."

* * *

**211. There is absolutely no need to emulate the people from "Full Monty" every time I hear the song "Hot Stuff".**

* * *

Nick laughed. "You are one twisted man, Brass. Twisted and wrong!"

Brass laughed, but he laughed harder when he read the next rule:

* * *

**212 .The vehicle loudspeaker system is not to be used to broadcast the soundtrack to a porno movie.**

* * *

"Greg?"

"No. No… That was a Henry muck up. Catherine was not happy with him."

"So the next one is Greg?"

* * *

**213. Men do not get "that time of the month."**

* * *

"No. That was Archie's excuse one day when he was in a really bad mood. Never did find out what happened, but he was in a nasty mood!" Nick whistled.

Brass waved his bottle at the next one. "Grissom caught Hodges playing Blood Mary with the one-way?"

* * *

**214. I will not coerce rookies into playing 'Bloody Mary' with the one way mirror.**

* * *

"Yeah. Grissom didn't even know what Bloody Marry was until that night. And that poor rookie… Grissom turned the light on inside the observation room and we heard her scream clear on the other side of the lab. I thought someone was dying!"

Brass smiled. "I missed that one. Grissom was pretty mad I bet."

"He had never heard of the ghost story of Bloody Mary, so he was a little fascinated and a little mad, I think."

"Somehow I can imagine that of him." Brass smiled. "I heard David screams like a girl."

Nick laughed, glancing at the next rule.

* * *

**215. Not allowed to put fake dead people in the morgue drawers regardless of the holiday.**

* * *

"Gina was lucky no one was here that day. Grissom was at a conference, Ecklie was on vacation, Robbins had the day off – Catherine was a lot more amused by it than they would have been. And lenient. David may never be the same man after that, though."

"It was her boyfriend, wasn't it?"

"Naw. Best friend. I knew about it and was down there when the guy came to life. I've never heard a string of cuss come out of David's mouth like that before."

The two laughed

"Is that one your handwork?"

Nick glanced at the next rule.

* * *

**216. You may not "fly by" the crime scene you have been assigned to in order to "get a feel for the layout."**

* * *

"Yeah. And you know, Grissom really didn't seem appreciative of my reasoning, either."

"Which was?"

"It worked on Top Gun."

"It didn't work on Top Gun."

That raised Nick's eyebrows.

"You watched Top Gun?"

"I have a daughter, remember?"

"Oh… You watched Top Gun?"

"Yes."

"It worked. Twice."

"And they got in trouble too, as I recall."

"Details."

"So what's with the names?" Brass nodded toward the rule.

* * *

**217. Even if they resemble one of these characters, you may not to refer to any suspect as: Thor-geous, He-man, Vash the Stampede, Vala, Fay Valentine, Chewbacca, Freddy Kruger, Elektra, Aeon Flux, or Yoda. (Nor may you use any references that has not already been added to this list.)**

* * *

"Gonna have to ask Greggo and Archie. There's references to things I don't know anything about. Except Kruger, Yoda and Chewie. I know those too."

Brass laughed. "I pegged you as more of a horror or action guy."

"I was the youngest in a family of seven. I was exposed to many, many genres growing up."

"I guess being the youngest can be a disadvantage."

Nick nodded. And for a moment, Brass noticed how the remark actually made him sad. He wondered why that would make Nick said, but decided not to ask.

"Who's fondling Gina's plants?"

* * *

**218. No fondling of co-worker's plants.**

* * *

Nick swallowed a sip of beer before answering. "Bobby."

"Bobby?"

"He says he's helping them grow."

"By fondling them?"

"He embellished on a Mythbusters episode."

"Embellished how?"

"The Mythbusters proved that positive sound does help plants grow better. He claims petting helps too."

"You mean he's trying to bring back to life that that dead thing she hides behind the counter?"

"It's hiding in ballistics now."

Brass chuckled. "Well, that's different."

Nick nodded.

"What is with Greg and plants at crime scenes?"

* * *

**219. May not shout "Bonsai!" when encountering small ornamental trees at crime scenes **_Contributed by LoraLee2_

* * *

"I think he does things just to see who's going to stop him first."

"And he's never disappointed. What exactly is a kill word?"

* * *

**220. My name is not a kill word.**

* * *

"Got me, but it seems to be a running joke with the lab rats. Well, except for Mandy."

"And what is Moh… Moj… Maj… Maj-qu-ah?"

* * *

**221. I may not practice MajQa on city time.**

* * *

"Dunno. I gathered it had something to do with Star Trek. Beyond that, I know nothing..."

"You don't know much about what's going on, do you?"

Nick laughed. "Ya know, the less I know, the easier it is to plead innocent when everyone else is getting in trouble."

"Oh. So Thor isn't your superior?"

* * *

**222. Thor is not our superior, therefore I cannot listen to his commands.**

* * *

Nick laughed hard this time. "Ohhhhh no. And Warrick almost got suspended for trying to pull that on Grissom. Apparently that kind of stuff is only tolerated if your name starts with a G."

"And an N."

"I do not get away with stuff like that."

"Oh please! You're like his prodigy child."

Nick scoffed at Brass. "Henry, maybe. Mister Doctorate at twenty-three."

"Henry has a doctorate?"

"You didn't know that?"

"Naw."

"Yeah. And he's working on a second one now."

"He's working a second doctorate while working full time and with a kid at home? Geeze."

"Geeze nothing. He started on it last year and has four classes left. What I wouldn't give to be that smart."

"Smart apparently doesn't count for pants."

* * *

**223. Pants are not optional.**

* * *

"Yeeaaaaah." Nick glanced at the rule. "I guess we do need to go back to the working on a doctorate, working full time, and having a kid. He gets a little forgetful sometimes."

"I hadn't noticed."

"One day, he put a cocaine baggie to smoke for prints in the centrifuge, the blood for the centrifuges in the FTIR, and the hair strands for the FTIR in the smoke hood. I came in right when he realized what he'd done and he was apologizing to the equipment for the mistake."

"What's the second doctorate? Wait. What's the first doctorate and then tell me the second?"

"His first is in forensic chemistry and the second is forensic accounting. That's got Ecklie all excited."

"How so?"

"He says it'll be nice to have someone who's good with accounting. We won't have to contract out for cases with accounting evidence anymore."

"Poor Henry."

"Oh yeah."

"So, Nick, what is with you and clowns?"

* * *

**224. All clowns are to be considered evil until strip searched.**

* * *

"Hate clowns."

"You _hate_ clowns? That's kinda of sacrilege."

"They're grown men in costumes trying to make everyone think they're funny. And they're not."

"Nick. Did you have a personal experience with a clown?"

Nick smirked. "You might say that."

"What happened?"

Nick leaned on the table as he started his story. "It all started on my ninth birthday. I wanted a clown and a pony for my birthday party. So my brother's and sister's helped convince our parents to get both. Well, the party was going great, and I started opening presents. And no one noticed the pony was eating the cake."

"The horse was eating the cake?'

"I think ponies eat pretty much anything."

Brass nodded with a soft grunt. He couldn't argue, he didn't know.

"And while the cake eating pony was out back chowing down, the clown was in the garage getting drunk."

"This already sounds like a great ninth birthday party."

"We get all done and go out for cake and ice cream. But there's hardly any cake left. There's twenty some nine and ten year olds without cake for a birthday party. It was horrible! My dad was furious at the pony's owner and while he was tearing him a new one, mom went to go find the clown. Well, the clown, he was sloshed by that time. He comes out back, can hardly walk, and starts making jokes about the cake being eaten by the pony. Then he proceeds to try riding the pony out of the yard. Us kids, already mad about the cake being gone, grab water balloons and threw them at the clown to stop him. He got bucked off and started swearing at us! A sailor would have blushed from the words coming out of that man's mouth." Nick looked right at Brass. "And he ruined my ninth birthday party. Everyone had to go home after that. So as far as I'm concerned, clowns are a childhood evil."

Brass stared at Nick, half expecting him to start laughing and tell him the story had all been a joke. But Nick didn't laugh. He didn't smile. He was very serious about his dislike of clowns and why he disliked them so much.

"Most people think they're just creepy," Brass pointed out.

"I think they're just plain evil."

"Guess you haven't had much therapy about that ninth birthday party?"

"I take it out on other clowns when I get the chance."

Brass nodded. "Fair enough. Let me borrow that chalk."

Nick handed him his piece and Brass got up adding to the list:

* * *

**225. Not allowed to get shot.**

**226. If it looks like a gun, chances are it is a gun.**

* * *

"Who got shot?"

"Me. Arm. Still stings a little."

"And I guess you thought it wasn't a gun?"

"It was orange. I thought it was a water pistol. Turns out it was a gun painted to look like a water pistol – ironically."

"Did a kid have it?"

Brass sat back down. "Naw. A clown."

Nick stared at him. "I divulge my deepest darkest secret to you and you poke fun?"

"No. It really was a clown. I'm not crazy about them either." He sat the chalk down in front of Nick. "See you tomorrow night."

Brass got up and left. Nick smiled, picking up the chalk and resuming his doodle.


	17. Hippo Birdie Tu Ewe

17) Hippo Birdie Tu Ewe

Nick didn't look up when Hodges walked into the lab. He quickly handed what he was writing on back to Greg standing next to him. Greg slipped it in the evidence bag next to him and left, flashing a smile as he passed Hodges.

"Hi Nick," Hodges said.

"What's up?" Nick said.

"Not much. So… Are you busy after work?"

Nick shrugged.

"I thought maybe we could go have breakfast."

"I dunno… Kinda tired and the shift just started."

"Well… Maybe we could do something later in the day?"

Nick shook his head. "Have plans later. Sorry, man."

Nick saw Hodges nod his head. "Right. Well, I'll see you around."

"Yep."

Hodges turned and left. Nick looked sidelong, watching him leave and grinned. Then he turned back to his work.

#

Hodges walked into the layout room, watching Greg hastily drop something into the paper evidence bag he'd left Nick's lab with. Catherine and Warrick didn't look up from the photographs of their latest crime scene.

"Later," Greg told them as he left.

"Hi," Hodges said.

"Hey," Warrick said.

"Hi," Catherine answered as she leaned forward. "Notice how the tire pattern is worn here along the edge?" she asked Warrick.

Hodges leaned on the table, looking at the photo.

"Car might not be aligned," Warrick said. "Might help us."

"Could have a low tire, too," Hodges said.

"Yeah. Maybe."

"So is either of you busy after work today?"

"I have to take Lindsey to a doctor's appointment," Catherine answered.

"Warrick?"

"I'm not up to anything today. Why? What's up?"

Hodges forced a smile. "Nothing."

The two went back to work as if the conversation had never happened. Hodges sighed, walking out of the lab.

"He gone?" Catherine whispered.

Warrick looked up, watching him. "Now he is."

She grabbed a folder and pulled out a greeting card. She slid it in front of Warrick as she stood.

"Sign it and get it to someone else. I'll see you on the scene in twenty."

Warrick nodded as he opened the card and picked up a pen.

#

Hodges found Archie in the break room working on a laptop. Henry sat across from him reading case files. Greg came in right behind him, still carrying the evidence bag. He sat it on the counter and then bought a bottle of water. Grabbing the bag again, Greg headed out of the room

"Greg," Hodges said.

He stopped, turning.

"Is that for me?" Hodges said, pointing at the bag.

"No."

"What is it?"

"I have to get it to ballistics. Just a lot else going on today."

"Oh. Okay."

Greg hurried off and Hodges turned back to Archie and Henry.

"Hi," Hodges said to them.

The two barely acknowledged him.

"Say, are either of you busy tomorrow after work?"

"I have to take Jason to a doctor's appointment in the morning," Henry said.

"That's funny. Catherine's taking Lindsey to an appointment too."

Henry didn't comment.

"What are the chances?" Hodges said with a suspicious tone.

"About as likely as you asking me what are the chances," Henry answered.

Hodges frowned at him, and turned his attention to Archie. "What about you, Archie?"

"Girlfriend wants me to do something. What's up?"

"I just thought we could have breakfast in the morning."

"Sorry. Can't do that."

"Well, how about something later?"

"Maybe. You'll have to call me later."

"Sure. I'll do that."

Henry left the room, passing Warrick coming in. He leaned on the table next to Henry.

"Got that trace?" he asked Henry, glancing back.

Hodges disappeared around the corner and he sat the card on top of Henry's reading.

"Sign it and pass it on. Make sure it gets back to Grissom."

Warrick left.

#

Hodges walked up to the receptionist desk, listening to Gina typing away. He leaned on the counter but she didn't look up.

"What's up?" Gina asked without breaking pace in her typing.

"Are you busy in the morning?"

"Nope."

"Want to get some breakfast tomorrow morning?"

"When?"

"Right after work."

"I'm going down to The Wall first. We can go after that."

Hodges smiled, perking up. "Really?"

"Sure."

"Okay. I'll meet you here after work."

"Okay."

Hodges turned to walk away.

"By the way, happy birthday," she said.

Hodges looked back at her and she stopped typing to hold his gaze.

"You're the only one that remembered," Hodges quietly told her.

She shrugged. "CSI solve crimes, you lab rats find evidence, and I remember birthdays and anniversaries. It works out in the grand scheme of things." She started typing again.

Hodges tried to make his smile bright, but in reality, it hurt to know that no one in the lab knew or cared that it was his birthday. He headed back to work.

#

Gina looked up when Hodges stopped at her desk.

"Ready?" he asked.

She stood, slipping envelopes into a slot. She looked past him and he turned, seeing Warrick and Nick getting on the elevator together. The graveyard shift had cleared out fast today. Usually they did that when the shift had been usually busy, which it hadn't been tonight. Not that Hodges cared. They'd all forgotten his birthday.

"Oh, just a second." She said and turned, doing something at the fax machine. "If I don't get this over to the courthouse Grissom will have my head."

Hodges didn't comment. He was just happy someone was going with him to celebrate his birthday. Gina turned, grabbed her coat, and they headed for the elevator. The two got on and Hodges tapped the basement button.

"Have something insidious to add to the list?" Hodges asked.

She smiled. "Something like that."

The elevator doors opened and they headed for The Wall.

"Oh!" Gina said as they entered records. "This was in your box." She handed him an envelope.

"When did it arrive? I thought I checked it start of shift."

"I dunno. I ran some papers to Catherine and it was there when I got back."

Hodges turned it over, running his finger along the flap. He opened it and a bright 'Happy Birthday' was printed on the front. He slowed to a stop at the filing cabinets, opening it, and staring at the signatures and well wishes from every one of The Wall Crew. Hodges looked up, seeing Gina had already gone in. She must have told them it was his birthday and out of guilt they had all rushed to get the card for him. Hodges walked in behind her and when he cleared the door, stared.

The Wall Crew were waiting in the room. Nick was the first to crack a smile.

"You thought we forgot your birthday!" he laughed. "You're so gullible."

And then the room erupted into an out of tune rendition of Happy Birthday. The blues and bad mood he'd fallen into that night melted away even as they hit painful off notes. Finished Catherine came forward and hugged him, then handed him an airline ticket.

"You'd been asking Ecklie to help you get to the conference next month. We all chipped in for the plane ticket."

"Thank you," Hodges said, beaming.

"Okay! Cake, then the wall," Greg said, clapping his hands once and then picking up the knife to cut the small cake sitting on the table.

"He's been moving this thing around all night to keep it away from you," Warrick told Hodges. "Might have some of his drool on it."

"It was in a box. Cake!"

Greg dished out a piece of cake to everyone before diving into his own piece.

"I am told I have to put this rule up," Henry said. With his free hand he opened the box of chalk sitting on the table and fished a piece of used chalk out. He walked over to the wall and added the first rule of the morning:

* * *

**227. "An entity entered my lab and ate the evidence" is not a permissible excuse for misplaced evidence.**

* * *

Henry turned to them. "Even if there really _is_ an entity in my lab that eats evidence.

"There is no entity living in your lab, Henry," Grissom rebuked.

"There is too. I've seen it," Greg argued.

With a knowing smile and shake of his head, Grissom told the two men, "There are no entities that eat evidence."

Nick laughed, slugging Warrick's arm. "Tell that to Brown here!"

"What?" Warrick asked. "What are you talking about?"

Catherine started laughing hard. So hard that she started crying and had to lean on Grissom to stay standing.

"What!?" Warrick asked.

"Let me refresh your memory, Warrick," Nick said as he added an item:

* * *

**228. Do not eat brownies found at a house with marijuana in it.**

* * *

"OH!" Warrick cried out. "You promised you'd never tell anyone!"

"You ate brownies at a crime scene?" Grissom asked.

Catherine started laughing harder, shaking her head. "Don't be mad at him," she whimpered. "It was my prank."

Grissom stared at her, waiting to hear the story.

She finally collected herself enough to talk. Catherine wiped her tears off as she explained to him, "He had been just awful all night. Picking on me and just giving me hell!"

Warrick chuckled, apparently remembering the night.

"So we stopped for supper, and I picked up a couple of brownies for later. We go to this house with marijuana plants everywhere. He was counting up the plants out back and I went inside. And in the kitchen was this pan of brownies and I thought of the best payback. So I put my two in the pan. Now, you gotta understand, these were the only two brownies cut in the pan and they were the only two frosted. The rest of the pan was uncut, no frosting, and most people would consider that. So he comes into the kitchen, and I grabbed one of mine and started eating it."

"You were standing there acting like they were the best brownies in the world!"

"The one I had was."

"I can already see where this is headed," Ecklie said, shaking his head.

"Yeah. So he's going off about my contaminating the crime scene and that I'm not supposed to be eating these brownies. Well, then genius comes in," she waives her hand at Nick, "and takes the second brownie. Warrick grabs a knife and cuts a big huge one, and takes a huge bite out of it before I could stop him."

"So then," Nick said through his laughter. "She's all 'Spit it out! Spit it out!' And dummy here is getting all mad, tells her if she can he can. She starts choking on her brownie and trying to get his away. And I had no idea what was going on."

Catherine sat down. "He'd eaten half of his before I got it away from him. So, Grissom, that night, when you were wondering why Warrick was eating everything in sight and really, really, _really_ happy… It wasn't mint in those brownies!"

"I should be mad about this," Ecklie said, "But I always knew one day Brown would meet his match. And, Catherine, he met you."

"Suffice it to say that we no longer pull pranks at crime scenes?" Grissom asked.

She shook her head. "That, I'm afraid, is going to be a long, long way off. With these three, there's no mercy, or stopping it." She stood suddenly, pulling the chalk from Nick's hand. "Which reminds me, _boys_."

She turned to a wall and added:

* * *

**229. Any incident that happens in the lab or at a crime scene may not be blamed on any of the following entities: Murphy, Greys, Santa Clause, Little Green Men, Easter Bunny, Tooth Fairy, Elvis, gremlins, goblins, hobnobs, ghosts, ghouls, any religious deity, Elves, Father Time, Mother Nature, pets, or siblings.**

* * *

"But… I have blame things on my brother. It's part of being a brother," Henry argued.

"I got six other siblings that could sneak in here at any time and sabotage my work," Nick added.

"I just have fish to blame," Greg admitted.

"I have a sister that deserves blame," Mandy told them.

"NO! No. No. No. No blame, on anyone, ever!"

"Not even on Bobby's sheep?" Archie asked.

"Hey, leave Betty out this!" Bobby retorted.

"Betty?" Hodges asked. "You've named the inflatable sheep _Betty_?"

"She's always been named Betty."

"I've never heard you call it Betty," Grissom told him.

"Don't get him started," Ecklie told him. "Then he'll try to explain why everything else is in the gun locker."

"Everything else?" Grissom's eyebrows lifted.

"Well, I have—"

"We don't want to hear about it," Ecklie told him.

"But it's really a funny—"

"We don't want to hear about it," repeated.

"Oh fine!" Bobby grabbed apiece of chalk and added:

* * *

**230. My supervisor is not interested in why I have a kilt, an inflatable sheep, and a box of rubber bands in the ballistics gun locker.**

* * *

"Why do you have a box of rubber bands in the closet?" Gina asked him.

"Well, when—"

"We don't want to hear about it," Ecklie, Nick and Greg told him.

Bobby threw up his arms. "Ya'll are missing a good story, but fine, fine. I'll just go on about my business and scare away all the small children with spoons."

"What?" Hodges asked.

"That makes about as much sense as Greg's long term goal," Grissom told him.

"I have a perfectly acceptable and _great_ long term goal," Greg argued.

Grissom wrote it on the wall:

* * *

**231. "To conquer the earth with an army of flying monkeys" is a bad long-term goal to give a supervisor when interviewing for a promotion.**

* * *

"That isn't even a logical long term goal," Grissom told him.

"Greg, you put that down as your long term goal?" Nick asked.

"Worked for Dorothy."

"It didn't work for Dorothy."

"Yes it did!"

"No. The Wicked Witch of the West had the flying monkeys," Mandy argued. "And she was melted with water. So, basically, it didn't work."

"Yeah, but Dorothy made friends with the flying monkeys after the witch was dead. Remember? They all sang the witch is dead."

"That was the Munchkins when Dorothy's house landed on the Wicked Witch of the East," Archie said between bites of cake.

"Geeze, Greg, as geeky as you are, I'd'a thought you'd know that movie by heart," Henry said. "I do."

"You have a small child in your house. You have an excuse for memorizing movies like that. I have grown women in my house. I don't."

Henry started saying, "I dunno what to tell you. It's just a craaaaaaazy—"

Nick and Archie both slapped their hands over his mouth.

"NO!" Nick barked. "No it is not. No you will not. NO!"

Muffled Henry complained, "But it's a very craaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaazy—"

"On the wall. You are not repeating that phrase one more time in my presence in my lifetime."

Henry pushed their hands away, looking sad. "Fine!" And he added to the list:

* * *

**232. In response to observations, I am no longer allowed to utter the phrase, "It's a craaaaaazy chicken world!"**

* * *

"There is a god!" Ecklie said.

They all looked surprised at him. He just smiled and started eating cake.

"Speaking of things that aren't good to do, perhaps you gentlemen should bear this one in mind," Grissom told them as he wrote.

* * *

**233. Glass walls, plus objects or people on wheels, never have happy endings.**

* * *

"But… That's fun," Henry said.

"And we make interesting face prints when we do it," Greg told Grissom.

Grissom laughed. "You two are full of it today, aren't you?"

Greg and Henry laughed.

"We've had to hide a cake all night," Greg explained. "That's bound to make anyone a little crazy."

"Oh, hey, I have one." Nick said, walking over to a wall. "And this is a very important one, even for lab rats. Of all the rules up here, this one is the one that you must never forget." He wrote.

* * *

**234. Don't tease the coroner when he's covered in human goo.**

* * *

"That was an accident," Robbins immediately argued.

"Accident my ass!" Nick shot back.

"You surprised me!"

"Uh-huh,"

"I had the music up loud."

"You call that music?"

"Yes!"

"Sounded like someone killing two parakeets!"

Everyone laughed, even Robbins. "Better than that stuff he listens to." He motioned at Greg.

"What? What's wrong with my music?"

"It could make your ears bleed," Ecklie told him.

"Pshaw! Hey, at least I don't go around quoting Doctor Seuss like ol' Nicky here," Greg poked.

"I only quote it in very special circumstances."

"Didn't I tell you not to do that anymore?" Grissom asked.

"Yeah… Well… I…"

Grissom gave him a level stare. Nick turned and added one more:

* * *

**235. Not allowed to quote Dr. Seuss no matter how much the crime scene may resemble one of the books.**

* * *

"And while you're at it, let's talk about your relations with FBI agents," Ecklie said.

"I have good relations with the FBI. So good, in fact, they put me on the no fly list for six months!"

"Is that why I've had four calls in two weeks about you and your FBI nicknames?"

"What's wrong with my nicknames?"

"Besides they're trademarked?" Hodges asked.

"Hey, they all look alike; I can't tell 'em apart."

"Nick, they do not all look alike and you are not permitted to call them names anymore."

Nick made a face but wrote his rule on the wall:

* * *

**236. We do not refer to male FBI agents as Agent Mulder or Agent Spooky, and female FBI agents as Agent Scully. They have names and seem to like them.**

* * *

Nick turned and grinned. "Now, I will have to find another name."

"No names, Nick," Ecklie said.

"Oh, but I will. Until my name is off that damned no fly list, I will find another name and they will be known by it."

"No more cake for you," Catherine said. "You or Greg."

"I didn't say anything!"

"But you were going to," Mandy jabbed.

"I was not!"

"Maybe something about the cockroaches."

"I didn't touch no stinkin' cockroaches! When are you going to believe that?"

"Uhm… Never?"

Grissom added a rule:

* * *

**237. No 'borrowing' of any supervisor's cockroaches to scare co-workers.**

* * *

"And now I know who to blame," Grissom said.

"I didn't touch the cockroaches. It was him!" Greg pointed at Henry.

With mouth full of cake he froze, looking up at him. "Me?" he asked over a bite of cake.

"Yes. You borrowed Grissom's cockroaches after you sat in that chair."

Henry swallowed his cake. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Warrick smiled, putting his arm around Henry's shoulder. "You were higher than a kite after you sat in that chair, Henry."

Henry blushed a little. "I don't know what anyone's talking about."

"You do to! I was babysitting for two days 'cause you sat in that chair," Catherine told him.

Henry turned a brighter crimson as he added:

* * *

**238. Do not sit on furniture that came out of a meth lab.**

* * *

"I never want to do that ever again," Henry told them.

"Oh come on. It was fun. You were talking to the evidence, having lengthy conversation with the break room chairs, and even the floating dogs were interesting," Warrick told him.

Hodges laughed. "And you put on a fabulous shadow box play in the observation room."

That made everyone laugh.

"But we don't use the one-way for shadowbox plays, do we, Hodges?" Grissom told him.

"We… Could. Again. Maybe."

"Do we, Hodges?"

Hodges added his next rule, to much booing from the CSI and lab rats:

* * *

**239. We may not use the one-way mirror for shadow box plays.**

* * *

"You steal our fun!" Archie said, jabbing his fork at Grissom.

"I try to keep some semblance of professionalism in the building."

"You do? When?" Ecklie asked.

Grissom shot him a glare that only made everyone laugh.

"Supervisor fight! Supervisor fight!" Hodges cried out.

"Quick, grab a camera," Bobby called out.

"OH NO!" Warrick said and wrote his own rule:

* * *

**240. You may not take incriminating photos of your supervisors or co-workers.**

* * *

"I don't ever want to see another one of me and a goat again. Ever. Greg and Archie."

"If you're going to put that on, then you know this one has to follow," Ecklie said as he added:

* * *

**241. Nor may you Photoshop® incriminating photos of your supervisors or co-workers.**

* * *

"And…" He turned, looking directly at Greg and then Henry. "There are certain songs that are not permissible to be sung while you are processing certain evidence."

The two looked at each other.

Ecklie turned, telling Greg while he added the next one, "You're teaching the new guy bad habits, Sanders."

* * *

**242. You are not allowed to sing "Every Sperm is Sacred" while processing sperm for DNA. **_**Contributed by lady-lunastar**_

* * *

"Nooooooooooo!" Nick cried. "You can't stop them from singing that! We have to hear that song at least once a night just to get in the groove of things."

"Oh, but he has," Mandy shot back. "I support his decision because if I ever hear that song again, I want to be dead."

"You're just no fun, Mandy. None."

"Speaking of things we never want to hear again," Grissom said, writing:

* * *

**243. We do not "charge into battle, naked, like the Celts" on ANY crime scene.**

* * *

With a firm tap on the period, he turned to his three CSI. "You scare people when you cry this, men."

"But…" Greg started.

"They deserve it," Warrick argued.

"They do deserve to be scared. We're scary people." Nick added.

"Nick, if you three are scary people, then I'm not sure what your definition of not scary is."

"How about people that use candy for perimeter markers?" Warrick looked at Nick.

Nick held his stare without blinking.

"They showed up in fluorescent light," Nick finally said. "What's your complaint?"

Warrick added:

* * *

**244. When you run out of perimeter markers you are not allowed to use any form of candy.**

* * *

"My complaint is that you used them on wet grass, and then the sun came up, and then we couldn't see them because the park squirrels stole them!"

"They were hungry."

Warrick narrowed his eyes at him.

"I was being kind to the local wildlife?"

Warrick's eyes narrowed more.

"I was too lazy to go back and get perimeter markers?"

Warrick smirked. "I knew it!"

"At least I didn't kill an entire lab in five minutes," Nick smiled at Greg.

"What are you talking about?"

Nick pretended to grab something and started hoping around, imitating Greg saying, "And then he threw her this way, and then this way, and then they went down like this, and then…" Nick put his hands on his hip. "Ring a bell?"

"I don't… I don't know that I like you," Greg told him before adding:

* * *

**245. I should not use a broom to demonstrate to a fellow CSI how violently a victim was strangled.**

* * *

"So that's what happened in the lab," Hodges commented.

"Ah. I have one to add," Catherine said, taking Nick's chalk and writing:

* * *

**246. Items hereby banned from being brought into any crime scene: fake appendages, wigs, oversized shoes, ballroom gowns, feather boas, water guns, spirit gum, face paint, realistic Halloween corpses, Santa Claus costumes, chorus girl costumes, and bolas.**

* * *

"But how are we supposed to pull pranks on coroners?" Nick protested.

"You don't," Robbins said. "Thank you Catherine."

"But I like my feather boa," Warrick complained. "It brings out the brown in my eyes."

"The only stipulation on our attire is it must be clean, without any tears or offensive graphics or logos – and can't be red," Greg told her. "My ballroom gown meets all these requirements – it's blue."

"You deal with this," Catherine told Grissom.

"It is written, it is now a rule," Grissom said.

The three pretended to throw a tantrum, making the other's laugh.

"Oh hey! I got one!" Nick said and took back his chalk to add:

* * *

**247. Do not taunt a police officer throwing up at the sight of body parts – or you'll end up wearing his highly projectile vomit.**

* * *

"This one," Nick continued, "Should really be part of the rookie training. I think that it is real important that we understand that our pals in uniform just got weak guts."

"And you were doing so well until the end," Ecklie told him.

"Thank you. Thank you very much, Ecklie."

"Speaking of rookies," Grissom stole Nick's chalk. "I think we should address what not to teach them." He wrote:

* * *

**248. Rookies are not to be told roadkill is a 'training crime scene corpse.'**

**249. May not stage a crime scene at any time for 'training purposes' without your supervisor's knowledge AND approval.**

* * *

"But what about all the bunny's little babies," Mandy asked.

"And those poor coyotes," Nick threw in. "They were just trying to get home for the Wolf Pack game."

"And the chickens," Henry added. "They just wanted to cross the road! They deserve justice!"

Henry's remark tore the room up with laughter.

When it finally died down some, Mandy said, "Okay. So there's this new revenge thing going around the lab that I think is high time to come to a halt." She wrote down:

* * *

**250. The camera flash is not to be used as a revenge tool.**

* * *

"But it's fun to see how starry eyed you get when they do that," Gina said.

"Who's side are you one?" Mandy shot at her.

Gina grinned. "The winning side."

"That's low. That's… No more shoe talk with you!"

"Now _that's_ low," Catherine said. "But well deserved."

"Hey, what is probably the stupidest thing a lab rat can say to an off duty cop?" Henry asked.

A couple guesses were tossed out: 'Our cars are nicer than yours,' 'We know how to make the place glow,' 'Do you know where your spouse is? We do.'

"NO!" Henry wrote it down."

* * *

**251. Telling off duty cops that 'lab rats rule, cops drool' is a sure fire way to a speeding ticket.**

* * *

"Henry," Grissom started, "How many times have you done that?"

"Once. He hates me."

"Why did you say that?"

"He was trying to tell me how they were better at solving crimes than we were."

"Yeah, but… Henry…" Catherine trailed off. "Oh Henry."

"Yeah. It was not my smartest move. Hindsight has been very expensive these days."

"Oo! Do you know another thing that you should never do?" Nick asked.

"I'm not guessing. Hand me another piece of cake," Catherine said.

Nick dished her up another piece and then wrote:

* * *

**252. May not yell "Geronimo!" when reporting to crime scenes where someone has jumped, or fell, or was pushed, from a plane. **_**Contributed by LoraLee2**_

* * *

"I never said you couldn't do that." Grissom said.

"I did," David said.

"Why?" Grissom asked.

"Remember the murder case we had out at the airplane graveyard?"

"Yes."

"He'd go into a plane, process it, then yell it every single time he came out and saw the victim. After the hundredth time, I decided he shouldn't do that anymore."

"Every time?"

"It was fun," Nick said. "David was annoyed."

"David didn't need annoyed," David shot back.

"Oh yes, yes David did need annoyed."

"No. David didn't."

"Yes, David did."

"And now that we've established that you and David don't agree when David should be annoyed, could we move on to something else?" Ecklie asked.

"Oh. I have one for one of our favorite little lab rats," Hodges said, and added:

* * *

**253. When opening a container with an unknown item or substance, it is not required to cry out, "Out demons! Out!"**

* * *

He turned to face Henry. They all looked at him.

"There might be demons inside. I have to make sure."

"Every single container?" Mandy asked.

"Yes."

"No."

"But they might get together with the entity that eats evidence and start eating other things. Like cars. And bars."

"And guitars?" Greg asked.

"Maybe."

"You were going to say guitars."

"Maybe. Maybe I wasn't."

Greg nodded. "You were going to say guitars because that's how the song goes."

"I'm ashamed to admit I even know this song," Catherine said. "Henry, we've already established you can't blame lab incidents on ghost and goblins. Do I need to add men from Mars too?"

Henry smiled at his cake and then ate a bite. They laughed at him and he joined in.

"Hey, uhm…" Hodges waited for everyone to stop talking. "Thanks everyone for remembering my birthday."

"Is this going to turn into one of those girlie moments, is it?" Nick asked.

"More cake?" Hodges asked.

The topic was forgotten. But secretly, Hodges was feeling a little girlie. He had never been so grateful to be a part of this team as he was this morning, standing among his co-workers, joking and laughing. They were the best part of his extended family.


	18. I Know What You Did Last Tuesday

18) I Know What You Did Last Tuesday

Grissom rushed into the lab and announced, "Meet me at The Wall. There's something you have to see."

Hodges, Nick and Greg looked up, watching him rush off. They didn't question his sudden appearance and disappearance; they just dropped what they were doing and quickly obeyed.

#

Perhaps it wasn't as heinous as a murder of passion, or a drug deal gone wrong, but to the Wall Crew – minus Ecklie – now grouped together in their room, it may as well have been. Someone had found The Wall. In large letters, in perfect print (Grissom knew it was to disguise their real handwriting, which meant they were working hard to conceal their identity) that someone wrote: I know who all of you are. I know what you did last Tuesday here. CATCH ME IF YOU CAN!

"What did we do here last Tuesday?" Bobby asked.

"Had my birthday party," Hodges answered.

"Oh yeah."

"This guy's taunting us to catch him," Nick said.

"We could do an analysis on the handwriting. Maybe it's someone from an old case."

"The suspect left that sweatshirt over there on the chair. We can run it for DNA," Mandy said. "Maybe figure out what the logo is."

Catherine and Grissom exchanged a look. She rolled her lips, biting down to keep from laughing. He smiled, but contained his laughter.

"There's a pencil under the table," Archie said. "Looks like there's something is scratched into it. Anyone got any gloves?"

"That coffee cup might have DNA on it too," Henry said, pointing at the cup sitting next to the edge.

Grissom slowly started moving back towards Robbins and Catherine followed. They reached him as Ecklie came in.

"What's going on?" Ecklie asked.

Grissom started laughing as he watched Archie don a pair of gloves and climb under the table to retrieve the pencil.

"Gil, we don't have time for The Wall. We're backed up upstairs."

"A terrible crime has been committed," Catherine said between giggles. "And our CSI and lab rats are collecting evidence."

Ecklie looked at her, then the others, then back at her. "We don't have time for this."

"I'm aware of that, but give me a minute to compose myself," Grissom told him.

Ecklie looked back at the group. "What are you doing with my coffee cup?" he pointed at the 'suspect's' coffee cup Nick held.

That got everyone's attention.

"That's yours?" Warrick asked.

"Yeah. I left it in the break room a week ago and when I went back for it, it was gone. I haven't seen it for a week."

Nick put on a glove and picked it up. He frowned. "It's clean. Doesn't look like it's been used."

"It's clean! What?" Ecklie walked forward, grabbing the cup from him.

"HEY! That may have evidence on it."

"Okay, this is stopping right now," Ecklie said.

"Conrad, let me handle this," Grissom urged.

Conrad cast a dark glare at Nick when he held his hand out for the coffee cup.

"Nick, forget the cup." Grissom said.

"But—"

"People, listen," Grissom said, stepping toward them. "I guess I never truly appreciated how special this spot of Las Vegas is to you until today."

Grissom looked at each face as he spoke, because he was sincere in that comment. It was clearly disturbing to them that someone had found their place and written the message on the floor.

"But this isn't a crime scene, no crime has been committed," he finished.

"Someone wrote on The Wall!" Archie protested.

"By that right, Archie, we should all be punished because it is vandalism." Grissom saw a storm starting to brew with the remark and cut it off before it started. "However—" Grissom waited to make sure they were listening. "I think we, Conrad and I, could both agree that, after your shift is over, and on your own time, you are more than welcome to process the scene as a crime scene. I think, Conrad, it would be good practice."

"Good practice?" Ecklie asked, looking at him like he'd lost his mind.

Grissom smiled. "I believe that whoever did this is a co-worker, which means it is either another CSI or lab tech or perhaps a police officer. They are going to work very hard at preventing my team from finding them, they will have internal knowledge of what the CSI and lab techs are doing, so this could prove to be a difficult case. But, like I said, it will have to be worked on in their personal time."

"And what about the evidence we need to process with the equipment?" Mandy asked. "The DNA or the fibers? It's not like any of us have a crime lab set up in our basements at home." She paused a moment and then added. "Unless you do, Grissom."

"I do not. Conrad, would it be okay if they used the lab equipment to process evidence on their own time? It shouldn't use much of our supplies or chemicals, and it will be with the understanding that their evidence is _not_ to take precedence."

"But some of this is time sensitive," Greg objected.

"You do what he says or the deals off the table," Ecklie said. He handed Nick his cup back. "Starting with my coffee cup after this shift. I want my cup back."

The CSI and lab techs didn't answer right away.

"It's this deal or nothing, guys," Catherine said. "We have real cases upstairs and as much as I love this place, we can't commit work time to figuring out who wrote this. So what's it going to be?"

Like a schoolyard of third graders, they muttered agreement. All that was missing is the stomping of feet on the floor and a few tears.

"Go back upstairs and get to work," Grissom gently ordered. "And I expect all of you to focus on your real work. Tomorrow morning, at ten sharp, we'll come back and start to work on this for a few hours."

"Who's going to protect it while we're gone?" Gina asked.

"It will be fine."

"The perp could come back and do something else," Warrick said.

"If the _perp_ does, we'll follow the evidence. Now go back to work."

They left but Grissom could tell they weren't happy. Ecklie left with them, perhaps to make sure they followed Grissom's order. Catherine stepped into Grissom's line of sight, gave him a look, then walked away laughing. Robbins walked up next to him.

"What was that about?"

"She's been accusing me of acting too fatherly toward my team. I don't think I improved that image just now."

Robbins smiled. "I don't think you did either."

#

Grissom entered the crime scene without precaution, and almost incited an uprising.

"Don't touch that wall!" Greg snapped.

"Grissom, where's your gloves?" Nick asked.

"Don't just barge in here like that!" Gina bellowed. "You'll smear the writing and contaminate the stuff."

Grissom stopped, surprised for a second. They had behaved all night, much to his surprise, and vanished the minute the clocks all read ten. He had to finish up paperwork and didn't get away until noon.

"So…" Grissom considered his question as he watched Catherine dusting the table.

She looked up and mouthed, '_I'm humoring them_.'

He smiled.

"Any luck?" Grissom continued.

"No," was the resounding answer.

Archie broke off, adding, "And the person was here tonight, while we were all in the building." He pointed at a spot on the wall. "I'm going over the surveillance tapes to see who it might have been."

"You can't do that, Archie," Grissom said as he walked around the edge of the room to read the new rules.

"But you said—"

"This isn't a real case and I can't authorize the warrant. You'll just have to interview the guards tonight."

"Fine."

Grissom smiled at the rules left behind by their mystery person. They were written in the same neat print that had been left on the floor:

* * *

**254. A smiley face should never be used to mark points of evidence, evidence bags, evidence jars, or urine specimens.**

**255. Freedom of speech only applies off duty.**

**256. You will not have **_**Plan 9 from Outer Space**_** ready for viewing when a co-worker logs into their workstation.**

**257. We do not use our badges to get special privileges (i.e. moving to the front of the Starbucks line for 'official police business' and then ordering a latte).**

* * *

Grissom chuckled at them.

"Don't you even tell us that you're going to enjoy those rules," Warrick told him.

"But I agree with them. Well, except maybe the freedom of speech one, but the rest give me clues about the suspect."

"What do you mean?" Nick asked.

"Like they probably like horror movies?" Gina asked.

Grissom looked at her, surprised by the question. "What makes you say that?"

She pointed at the message on the floor. "They stole that from a horror movie title."

Grissom smiled. "Yes. That would be a clue, Gina. Good job."

She smiled.

"Others is that this person handles evidence that you guys like to mark with smiley faces, after I've told you not to." Grissom gave them a level stare for a moment, and then continued. "The drawing of the flower is a signature, we just have to figure out who we know has been seen drawing it. They apparently work in the lab, because those are the only computers Archie has rigged to start that poor excuse of a movie. And as I recall, Nicolas Stokes, we had an issue about using badges for special privileges not too long ago. Last week, was it?"

"He did it," Nick and Warrick said, pointing at the other.

Grissom laughed. He could feel the tension in the room starting to ease.

"So, we can safely assume this is someone that works in the lab, and probably works nights, can't we?"

"That only narrows it down to eight people. Not including the guards and janitorial staff."

"Then that would actually narrow it down to twenty," Hodges said.

"No. Eighteen. The other three can't read or speak English," Nick pointed out.

"So we should probably start there." Grissom dug a piece of chalk from his pants pocket and walked up to a wall.

"What are you doing?" Nick asked him.

"Writing a rule."

"But we haven't finished processing the scene."

Grissom laughed, but it didn't stop him from writing:

* * *

**258. Other things not to include in reports: Mike and Ike's and Hot Tamales are not referred to as "uppers," blue M and M's are not referred to as "downers," sugar is not to be referred to as "angel dust," and oregano is not "happy weed."**

* * *

He turned to the silent room. The only one that wasn't glaring at him was Catherine. She was turned away, staring at the ceiling, her mouth covered with one gloved hand.

"Anyone else?" he asked holding up the chalk.

Archie marched forward and snatched it away. He shook the chalk at Grissom as he told him, "You are evil, Doctor Gil Grissom. Evil. You are like Jekyll and Hyde, and you don't even drink crazy juice to become them."

"Oh?"

"You come in here and tell us we can process it like a crime scene, and then you contaminate it."

"How much more evidence can you glean from this room?" he asked, motioning to the bags sitting near the door.

"We will never know. Now." Archie walked to the wall and wrote:

* * *

**259. Unlock the tape before you try recording over it.**

* * *

"I checked the tape!" Warrick protested.

Archie turned, smirking. "Right. If you'd checked the tape, we'd have had a good blackmail video on Greggo."

"What blackmail?" Greg asked.

"Oh yeah." Warrick grinned. "I forgot about that."

"Forgot about what?"

"When we had that IA review, and they were questioning you about the policies. You kept asking—"

"I dunno what you're talking about," he quickly interrupted.

"What was he asking?" Mandy asked.

"He wanted to know if—"

"I was asking them to clarify the policies."

"You were asking—"

This time when Greg tried to interrupt Archie and Warrick both said louder, "If he was going to be stripped searched!"

Greg blushing bright red made everyone laugh. He pried the chalk from Archie's hand and wrote:

* * *

**260. When held for questioning, I do not have a right to a strip search.**

* * *

"I never, ever want to hear about that again. And for the record, I hate IA."

"Everyone hates IA," Ecklie said.

"You hate IA?" Hodges asked him.

"I have no love for them."

"I find that revealing and shocking."

"I find everything Greg does revealing and shocking."

"What did I do now?"

"How about every time you have any paperwork that you are required to put your race, you actually, just for the fun of it, put your _real_ race?"

"Whaaaaat?"

Catherine laughed. "Oh yes, Greg, the non-human human Caucasian but only on the second Thursday of every thirteenth month, Sanders."

He smiled, wagging his finger at her. "You know you like it. You know it."

"All the same," Ecklie said. "Put it on the wall. No more of that. And include every race you've ever been."

Greg wrote the rule number, and then looked over his shoulder. "You know, those sections always say optional."

"They're important for our funding."

"But they say optional."

"Write it."

"I'm just saying." Greg wrote the rule.

* * *

**261. When filling out paperwork of any kind, my race is not any of the following: hobbit, elf, Ranger, Denobulan, Jem'Hadar, Lilties, Gelfling, Skeksis, Cardassian, Bajoran, Angosian, Breen, Trill, Asgard, Jaffa, Wookie, Ewok, Muggle, or Wraith.**

* * *

Greg stepped back, staring at the rule. "I will search far and wide for more species."

"You like making my job harder, don't you?" Ecklie asked him.

Greg's grin was evil and sadistic. "Do you really want an answer to that?"

"No."

"You should also add your excuse for showing up at yesterday's crime scene looking like you did," Catherine told him.

"What? What I do?"

"You showed up looking like you'd rolled out of bed, Greg."

"Well… I told you why."

"And I told you, you couldn't use that as an excuse."

Greg wrote his rule, protesting "Good grief! What is this? Pick on Greg Sanders afternoon."

* * *

**262. Arriving at a scene in less than acceptable appearance cannot be blamed on a transporter malfunction.**

* * *

"I'm liking it," Nick jabbed.

"You would, Tattoo."

"Do not go calling me Tattoo."

"You started it!"

"How did I start it?"

"Oh, you started it," Warrick told him.

"I did not start it."

"Start what? What are you three old ladies bickering about?" Mandy demanded.

The men stared at her.

"_Old ladies_?" Nick asked.

"You three sound just like three old ladies. All that's missing is the knitting, the rocking chairs and cats."

It took a minute, but her comparison brought a wave of laughter.

Through his laughter, Nick said, "Fine. Fine! I'll write it."

* * *

**263. I may not shriek "Da plane! Da plane!" while investigating a scenes at an airfield.**

* * *

"Happy?"

A resounding, "Yes" came from his fellow CSI.

"You know, thinking of things we've talked about not doing, yet you guys seem dead set on doing," Ecklie said, holding his hand out for the chalk. "There is something that really needs to stop."

* * *

**264. You are not allowed to use the supervisor's red phone to "check up on the mayor."**

* * *

Ecklie turned to the three worse of the CSI jesters. "And if I ever, ever, ever, get woke up at three in the morning by him because one of you has done this, I will personally make your lives hell until you quit."

"Why not fire them?" Bobby asked.

"Unemployment would kick in," Robbins answered.

"Ohhhhh."

"And you, Warrick," Catherine said, pointing at him. She held her hand out for the chalk. "You are in big trouble after tonight."

"Me?"

"Oh yeah." She wrote on the wall:

* * *

**265. You are not allowed to cast spells at crime scenes even if the victim was Wiccan. **_**Contributed by Mae**_

* * *

Catherine spun and faced him. "You weren't helping the situation."

"I was so helping the situation."

"You were making the witness uncomfortable with all that mumbo jumbo."

"She wasn't uncomfortable; she had two pots of coffee. She was flipping out long before I got there."

"So you admit you were casting a spell?"

"I was pretending to cast a spell."

"Same difference."

"Hardly! I don't believe in that stuff, but it sure spooked the witness. Who, as we discovered, was actually the killer, and also the guy's sister – which she failed to mention."

"You are impossible!"

"Thank you."

Catherine threw up her hands, turning to Ecklie and Grissom. "He needs to be given a few trash dumps."

Grissom only laughed. Ecklie took the chalk.

"There is one more thing I've thought of that you guys need to stop when there's media around."

"Just one thing?" Mandy asked.

Ecklie wrote it down:

* * *

**266. Nevada is not to be referred to as 'the tumbleweed state,' 'the we love our criminals infused with a little garlic oil state,' 'where even a beaver can strike it rich state,' or 'the state that loves you broke'**

* * *

"We don't do that," Greg protested.

"Naw. We'd never say anything bad about our beloved state," Nick added.

Warrick nodded. "We love our state. Love it."

"After all, the state pays our salary, we'd never dream of offending anyone with anything off color," Catherine said.

The room went silent. Ecklie pointed at her with the chalk. "Your comment went a little too far into the disbelieving realm, Catherine."

She shrugged, taking the chalk. "But our state does have lots of tumbleweeds."

Ecklie smiled and looked right at Nick. "We reserve that title for Texas."

Most of the room resounded in an "Oooo." Nick smiled.

"You know, Archie pegged the wrong Doctor Jekyll and Mister Hyde. You come into this room and turn into this very disturbing person!"

Ecklie just chuckled, letting Catherine take the chalk. She wrote on the wall:

* * *

**267. Crime scenes do not need soundtracks, either at them or afterwards.**

* * *

And then turned and crossed her arms, staring at them. All of suddenly they all pointed at each other.

She shook her head. "This is like being in kindergarten."

"So then I can be a CSI now?" Henry asked.

"Oh for everything good and holy stop him now!" Bobby cried out.

"But I wanna be a CSI."

"You do?"Grissom asked.

"He's being facetious," Catherine loudly whispered to Grissom.

"He thinks he's a P.I.," Warrick told him.

"You do, do you?"

"Yes." Nick wrote:

* * *

**268. Cereal box P.I. cards are not sufficient police, lab tech, or CSI identification.**

* * *

"My brother gave it to me one morning when I couldn't find my badge," Henry told them.

"But you apparently found it?" Catherine asked.

"Yeah."

"Well, Nicky likes to give his away."

"I did not give it away."

"You handed it to the kid, you gave it away."

"No. I did not give it away. The little creep stole it!"

"What happened?" Hodges asked.

Nick wrote on the wall:

* * *

**269. If a little kid asks to see your badge, don't give it to him!**

* * *

"You handed your badge to a kid?" Grissom asked.

"At least it wasn't my gun."

"Oh God!" Catherine laughed.

"Are you sure that you and Greg aren't Jekyll and Hyde?" Mandy asked.

"Why?"

"You two seem to get scatter brained at the same time."

Nick and Greg didn't even argue the point.

"So I have one," Henry said, writing it down:

* * *

**270. Not allowed to make s'mores while monitoring the burn pit.**

* * *

"You?" Grissom asked.

Henry and Hodges both looked at Mandy.

"I didn't make them."

"You were making them when I came out," Hodges said.

"I wasn't using the fire."

"The chocolate was melted."

"I used the lighter."

"You used the fire," Henry told her.

She hesitated, and then shook her head. "No. Nope. I didn't."

"She did," Hodges told Grissom. He took the chalk. "I discovered a 'don't do' yesterday." He wrote.

* * *

**271. Don't tease the ballistics expert when he's armed with a loaded rubber-bullet riot gun.**

* * *

Bobby started laughing. "That's what you get for teasing me about my accent."

"He teased you about your accent?" Nick said.

Hodges laughed nervously, telling Nick, "Not really teasing. It was more of a comment."

"You kept telling me I sounded redneck when I was sick or angry," Bobby told him.

"I was referring to your vocabulary, not your accent."

"So 'you sound like you should be in the next Dukes of Hazard movie' was a compliment?"

"Sure."

Nick grinned. "Well, Hodges, next time I have a loaded non-lethal weapon, I'll have to remember to test it out on you."

"I said it to _him_."

"You misunderstand the camaraderie of Southerners," Bobby told him.

Hodges looked at Grissom, who wasn't about to offer him help out of his own hole. He suddenly turned the focus onto Archie. "Did you know he sells stuff on eBay at work?"

"What?" Archie asked.

"You do."

"I monitor my sales at work, there's a difference."

"I saw listing something." Hodges quickly added to the list:

* * *

**272. Not allowed to operate a business out of the lab.**

* * *

Archie walked up to him, getting in his face. He snatched the chalk away and without looking away from Hodges, wrote (very sloppy):

* * *

**273. Especially not allowed to operate a pornographic movie studio out of the lab.**

* * *

"I never did that!"

Archie smirked. "Sure you did. I saw you."

"Oh, and one more rule to that." Greg wrote:

* * *

**274. Not even if they **_**are**_** "especially patriotic" pornographic movies.**

* * *

"I did not! I have not… I never did that!"

Greg and Archie cracked at the same time, exchanging a high five. Archie tossed the chalk back to him.

"You were squirming! That was great!" Archie laughed.

"I was not squirming."

"You were squirming," Catherine told him.

"I was not."

"Just like you didn't put in a request for medical leave because of a paper cut?" Ecklie asked as he wrote:

* * *

**275. Paper cuts will not be considered for hazard pay.**

* * *

"It was a very serious paper cut," Hodges argued.

"It was a paper cut."

"I bled all over the place."

"You bled in the sink for five seconds."

"But I did bleed."

"Hodges, don't make me reconsider firing you."

"You mean hiring him, don't you?" Catherine asked.

"No. He fired me twice this morning."

"You did?" Grissom asked.

"Yeah, but apparently he's like a stray dog. He won't leave." Ecklie said, heading for the door. "I guess he'll be back tonight too."

Hodges mimicked him as he followed him out. The Crew slowly filed out of the room, heading home. Grissom was last out, shutting off the lights. He turned to close the door, and over the top of the filing cabinets saw someone move out of sight three aisles up. He stared at the spot for a moment, and then smiled and walked away.


	19. The Mystery Writer Strikes Again

19) The Mystery Writer Strikes Again

Grissom stepped off the elevator, heading for the exit.

"Leaving early today, huh, Grissom?" one of the guards asked.

Grissom smiled. "Only for a little while."

"So that group you hang out with, are they normally just completely weird?"

Grissom stopped and turned, looking back at the man watching him. His partner, on the other hand, was either oblivious to the conversation, or convincingly acting like he wasn't paying any attention to it.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Two of them have been here asking us all kinds of really strange questions."

Grissom walked back to the desk. "Such as?"

"Oh… One asked us to write a sentence in the neatest print we could. And then he asked if we drew flowers. I think Andy was about to pummel him for that question."

Grissom didn't know who Andy was, but he made the assumption it was his partner who was currently preoccupied.

"They're working on a practice case."

The man's eyebrows lifted. "Practice case?"

"Even CSI and lab techs have to keep up their skills."

"And do they normally go around asking everyone in the building if they've seen this symbol?" He held up a piece of paper. On it was a color print of the logo that was on the sweatshirt.

"Normally they're asking suspects about that. Since this is a practice case, everyone in the building is a suspect."

"Right. Well, could you maybe tell them to stop making us their practice case suspects? We do have work to do, you know."

"I'll pass it along when I seem them tonight."

"Tonight?"

"When they work."

"They haven't left the building. At least not this way they haven't."

Grissom smiled. "Well, wherever they are, I'm sure you'll be left alone for a while. I'll talk to them, okay?"

"Right." He didn't sound convinced.

Andy, the otherwise preoccupied guard, spoke up. His voice was very deep and throaty, surprising for someone who didn't look that big. "You tell that lab tech with the attitude that if he ever insinuates I go around drawing flowers again, he'll be drinking his meals from now on."

"And which one would that be?"

He looked up at Grissom. "I dunno. The squints all look the same."

"Squints?"

"Lab techs," the first guard explained.

"Ah. Well, I'll pass it along too."

"Have a good day, Grissom," the first guard told him.

Grissom turned, not risking a smile. His team had become dead set on finding the mystery writer for two weeks now – and quite clearly they'd broadened their list of suspects without his knowledge. It amused him how serious they were taking this investigation, even if the trail had gone stale.

#

Grissom found the Crew crowded around a layout table when he came in early for his shift – apparently they had come in much earlier, according to the night guard. He hadn't been as offended by the questions they'd asked him, and asked if they'd caught Professor Green or Missus Peacock. Grissom laughed. So now they had named the mystery writer too? Well, if that kept them occupied with the case, so be it.

"Okay, folks, you have ten minutes to catch me up on the case and then we have real cases to work," Grissom informed them.

They didn't argue, but the dark glares conveyed the unspoken. He knew they wouldn't object anymore. The first day he'd stopped them during a shift, they had argued and fought him on it, but when he finally told them either do as he asked or have every bit of their evidence tossed into the burn pit, they became obedient immediately. Not to say they didn't still try to convince him to spend extra time during shifts working on it.

"Sorry I'm late," Catherine said as she hurried in with Wendy.

Wendy carried two folders in hand, handing one to Greg and one to Nick. "Here's your DNA results, boys."

"Thanks," they told her in unison.

Wendy smiled, watching the group. She looked at the pictures on the table.

"What case is this?" she asked, reaching for a picture.

Hodges snatched it away from her. "One of ours. Don't you have DNA to run?"

"Rude much?" she asked before turning on her heel and leaving.

Grissom watched her walk out, and then looked at Hodges as he sat the photograph down.

"That wasn't really necessary, was it, Hodges?"

"She's still on our suspects list. We haven't cleared any of them yet."

"That wasn't the question."

Hodges looked somewhere other than at Grissom. Grissom turned his attention back to the table.

"So, what's new?" Grissom asked.

"This was on the table this evening," Greg said, handing him a picture.

Grissom took it, looking over the image. The mystery writer had drawn a crossword puzzle with one word clues listed below. Well, that was intriguing.

"I'll have to work on this in the morning. Anything else?"

"The hairs on the sweatshirt we found came back as Equus caballus."

"Horse hairs?" Warrick asked.

"Yeah."

"Nothing on the cup." Greg said.

Grissom looked up at him. He had seen lipstick on the edge of the cup and just from the patterns he knew that lips had put it there. There had to be DNA trace. So whoever it was must have tampered with the test. Grissom didn't say anything. His CSI was going to have to figure that out on his own or not at all."

"Finally found someone who could tell me what the emblem on the sweatshirt was," Catherine said. "It was the logo for the National Rodeo Finals three years ago."

"How did you find that?" Hodges asked.

"Do you really want to know?"

The room was divided by yes and no. Grissom didn't care either way, just as long as he had the answer – although it didn't really piece together who the mystery writer was.

"Fine," Catherine said with a sigh. "Lindsey's best friend's boyfriend's sister's boyfriend's sister's best friend is a Pro Rodeo bull rider."

"How long did it take for you to get this answer back?" Hodges asked.

"Three days."

"So teenagers can come up with fast answers?" Mandy asked.

"Only when they want to. So I guess that's where we are with the evidence."

Grissom nodded. "Okay. Pack it up and let's get to work."

The evidence was returned to its box and handed off to Grissom. The group dispersed and Grissom headed back to his office. He glanced in the DNA lab, watching Wendy and another tech working. Grissom turned and went in. The two ladies looked up at him, smiling.

"Can I ask you two when you got in tonight?"

"I came in at eight-thirty," the other lab tech.

"Five till nine," Wendy answered.

"Did you notice if anyone was in here that should have been the last few days?"

They both shook their heads.

"Okay. Well… have a good evening." Grissom turned and then stopped, remembering to tell Wendy something. "By the way, I was able to approve your time off next weekend."

"Oh. Thank you!"

"Sure. Something special planned?"

"Yeah."

He waited for a moment for her to tell him what, but she just turned back to work. He decided not to press it. She was allowed her privacy.

#

Nick arrived at The Wall, slipping inside. He found Grissom sitting at the table, working on the crossword puzzle. Nick pulled out a chair next to him.

"Any luck?"

"Not much. This is quite challenging."

Nick grinned. "Something that has even the great Gil Grissom stumped, huh?"

"Only because the clues are one word, but the code was easy to break. The words for the blanks are antonyms of the words listed. The problem is there may be dozens for one word, and finding the right one is a challenge."

Nick smiled, looking up at the wall. "Well… Our writer has struck again, I see. And I bet that palm print will lead to nowhere too."

Grissom turned as the rest of the crew began filtering in. On the wall the mystery writer had added:

* * *

**276. Lye is not to be used to 'soften' office chairs.**

**277. Claiming that, "the revolution is now," only cements the trouble you're in.**

**278. Burn pits not revel fires - therefore it is wrong to dance naked around them.**

* * *

Grissom smiled. "Well, this person is around when you are, Nicky."

"I don't soften the office chairs with lye."

"No. You sing 'Hit the Road Jack' at the top of your lungs. Often. And off key," Hodges told him.

Nick grinned. "It's my prerogative."

"Not any more. It is written," Hodges said.

"By someone we don't know."

"Even if we don't know who wrote them, Nick, we have to abide by them," Grissom told him.

"Now hold on," Warrick said. "We don't know who this person is. They don't have a right to tell us what we can and can't do."

"Anymore than we do?" Grissom asked.

"Man! That's just not right."

"You know what else isn't right?" Ecklie asked as he walked to a wall and started writing:

* * *

**279. The city does not fund investigative cases of missing food from the break room – nor should you claim you are "honing your investigative skills" by doing so.**

* * *

"It's bad enough you're investigating a mysterious writer, but this is just a little too much."

"But it helps keep us sharp and prepared for anything," Nick retorted.

"It's going to help get you an unforeseen vacation if it doesn't stop."

"Me? For _that_. What about him?" Nick pointed right against Warrick's nose.

"Get that finger out of my face," Warrick said, batting it away. "I haven't done anything wrong."

"Oh yeah. Tell him how you got that entire collection of 'That 70's Show' then."

Warrick smiled, and it was far too sweet to be on his face and not be hiding something. "I got them it for Christmas."

"He traded his luminal, all of it, for bootlegs."

"I did not."

"You so did!"

"You traded that finger powder for a date."

"I didn't trade the finger powder for a date!"

"Yes you did," Greg said.

"Stay out of this," both told Greg.

Warrick added, "Besides, you traded handcuffs for a small child."

"I did not!"

"You did too."

"I traded a pair of gloves and magnifying to the kid's older brother, – well, he was ten – so he'd give me the baby so that I could process the kid's clothes. There's a difference."

"I don't think anything I've heard so far I'd approve of," Grissom said.

"I second that," Ecklie added.

"And the rule gets put on the wall," Catherine told them.

With a dark glare, Warrick added:

* * *

**280. I may not trade any item in my field kit for: cigarettes, booze, sexual favors, small children, or bootleg DVD's or CD's.**

* * *

"And, Warrick, what is it we don't call our co-worker's anymore?"

"Stupid?"

She walked up, snatching his chalk away. "No." And then wrote:

* * *

**281. Do not refer to your fellow co-worker as 'the old ball and chain.'**

* * *

The CSI and lab tech taunted Warrick. He smiled, nodding. "Alright. Okay."

"You called Catherine your old ball and chain?" Bobby asked.

"It was a term of endearment."

"Right. Which brings me to another thing you, Warrick, aren't allowed to do anymore."

* * *

**282. Entire training sessions are not to be used to discuss the new, hot, lab tech.**

* * *

"I didn't spend the _entire_ training sessions doing that. Maybe an hour."

"That was the time you spent not talking about her," Nick corrected him.

"Are you trying to get me in trouble today?"

"You're doing fine on your own. You don't need my help."

"You're not saint."

"Tell me about it," Ecklie said.

"Supervisor or not, you aren't allowed to help him."

"I don't need to. As you told him, you're doing fine on your own."

"What? What do you have on me?

Ecklie grabbed Nick's chalk and wrote two down:

* * *

**283. When operating any city vehicle or equipment you may not attempt something "you saw in a cartoon".**

**284. You are not allowed to sing 'We Are the Champions' when a guilty party has confessed. **_**Contributed by Mandi 96**_

* * *

"I never did that… with the vehicle. And I don't sing that every time."

"Only every time you're in the observation room," Greg said.

"Not every time."

"At least eighty-nine percent of the time," Grissom told him.

"But I never did anything crazy with the vehicles."

"Oh, let's see if this refreshes your memory," Catherine said. "'Hey, Cat! I saw this on Teen Titans last Saturday! Let's try it!'"

"I—" Nick started to object, but the room jeered him until he finally just smiled. "Alright. Okay. _Maybe_ I do that. _Maybe_."

"And let's talk about your choice of sugar containers," Hodges said.

"What are you talking about?"

Hodges wrote on the wall near him:

* * *

**285. Radioactive material containers may not be used to store sugar, coffee or other consumables.**

* * *

And then turned to Nick with a raised eyebrow.

"It keeps everyone else from using them," Nick argued.

"And explains your glowing personality," Mandy quipped.

"Oh ha ha. Those containers were only marked radioactive. Hey, wait a second. If I'm going to get my butt chewed for singing We Are the Champions, Hodges needs to get his chewed for his singing."

"I don't sing."

"You so do sing," Henry retorted.

"I do not. I've never sung."

Nick wrote his rule:

* * *

**286. Even after the suspects or victims have left the building, I am not allowed to sing, 'Hit the Road Jack.'**

* * *

"You sing," Nick told him.

"At least I sing in tune."

"I sing just fine."

"You both suck," Greg told them.

"That wasn't very nice, Greg," Hodges told him.

"Yeah, well…"

"Are you in a bad mood, Greggo?" Nick asked.

"No. I'm reliving my mob days."

Warrick reached around Greg and wrote:

* * *

**287. I should not confess to crimes that took place before I was born, and to which I could not have ever partaken in.**

* * *

Then pointed a finger in his face. "No. You were never in the mob. You weren't old enough to be in the mob. You will stop pretending you're in the mob."

"I was, I am, I won't."

"You going to remind him about his weapon, too?" Nick asked.

"What about his weapon?" Grissom asked.

Warrick wrote the answer down:

* * *

**288. Realistic water pistols filled with Tabasco® sauce are not LVPD issued weapon and may not be used on duty.**

* * *

"Greg," Grissom said with a warning tone.

"I was testing out a non-lethal weapon that night."

"Which you luckily didn't need that night."

"Like you were 'testing the full functionality' of the Denali speaker system at our last crime scene tonight?"

"I had to make sure it worked properly!"

Grissom wrote the rule on the wall:

* * *

**289. The vehicle loudspeaker system is not to be used to replace the radio.**

* * *

"We've determined it works fine," Grissom told him. "So no more."

"Since we seem to be on this song theme today," Catherine began as she took the chalk from Grissom. "Let's discuss another song I never want to hear ever again."

* * *

**290. When our suspects have been arrested at the alter before 'I do,' and it turns out the wife has been cheating on the husband, we do not sing the line, 'What a shame the poor groom's bride is a whore.' **_**Contributed by Gema227**_

* * *

"Aw come on!" Nick argued.

"She deserved that song. It was so _her_!" Greg added.

Warrick piped up, "But the woman was a total—"

"Warrick."

They laughed at his scowl.

"Next time we'll just shoot the philanderer with rubber bullets," Bobby said.

"Like you shoot the supervisor with suction cup darts?" Ecklie asked as he wrote:

* * *

**291. Shooting passing supervisors with suction cup darts to practice before arms recertification is not tolerated.**

* * *

"But we needed a moving target to practice," Nick protested.

"I don't think so,"

"But you're such an easy moving target," Bobby added.

Ecklie shot him a sinister glare.

"I have one I think we should address, before our next briefing," Grissom said, taking Ecklie's chalk.

* * *

**292. A crime scene briefing is not the best place to unveil your newest off color joke.**

* * *

"But I like Warrick's joke about the naked blonde," Greg said.

"I liked the one about the two Polish men and Jew," Nick said.

Grissom turned to them. "You two just don't know when to stop, do you?"

"Yeah. I do. When Gina docks my pay," Nick said.

"I didn't dock your pay."

"You docked my pay."

"Wasn't me."

"I know the time sheet I put in had more hours than the one I got back – with white out."

Gina smiled. "But you got it back. Didn't he, Conrad?"

"What?" Ecklie asked, as if he'd never heard the question.

"You aren't supposed to be docking anyone's pay," Grissom said.

She sighed, writing:

* * *

**293. I am not allowed to dock anyone's pay as revenge. **

* * *

"Happy Nicolas?"

"Completely."

"Well," Catherine said, sidling up to him and stealing his chalk. "If you think you're going to get away picking on her, then I got a few for you that annoy the _hell_ out of me!" She turned and wrote on the wall:

* * *

**294. While collecting rounds, it is unnecessary for me to imitate Tigger™, count Mississippi, count licks to the center of the Tootsie Pop®, or repeat after each on "another one bites the dust!"**

* * *

And then turned to face him. "The silence will be so golden."

Gina and Mandy clapped.

"You think that's it, huh? You can just write that up there and I will stop."

"If it's written on the wall, yes," Mandy told him.

"Oh really?" Nick plucked the chalk away from Catherine with an ornery grin aimed at Mandy. "Then we have something to talk about." He wrote down:

* * *

**295. 'Fraculators' do not exist nor can they be built.**

* * *

"I never said they could be built," Mandy protested.

"But you said they existed."

"I said they were probable in certain works of fiction."

"That was the same as saying they exist."

"Wait. As I recall, that conversation happened after I'd hit my head on the counter."

"Oh yeah. Blame it on a fall."

"It was his fault," she pointed at Bobby.

Bobby slowly slinked behind Warrick before Nick could look up. "Warrick's?"

"No, Bobby's."

She looked where he'd been. Warrick sidestepped, revealing the lurking ballistics expert. He grinned sheepishly.

"Bobby, what have you done now?" Grissom asked.

Bobby's face started turning red.

"Tell them, Bobby," Mandy insisted. "Tell them, or I will."

Bobby continued grinning stupidly.

"He left a tube of gun lube open in _my_ lab, someone sat a box on it, it squirted on the floor and because it was clear, I didn't see. I slipped and hit my head on the counter, and when I finally knew where I was, I was carrying on an argument with Nick about fraculators."

"What are fraculators?" Grissom asked.

"It's out of a movie," she said with a roll of her eyes. "And completely irrelevant to the point."

Bobby looked away, avoiding everyone's eyes. Grissom held out his chalk when Bobby finally looked back.

"I think you know what to do," Grissom said.

Bobby took it and wrote:

* * *

**296. Never leave open lubricant containers in high traffic areas.**

* * *

"And by containers, you mean this isn't the first incident?" Ecklie asked.

Bobby just grinned.

"You could answer that question."

"Do I look stupid?" Bobby asked.

Ecklie smiled and cleared his throat.

Bobby's grin melted into something malicious. "But if I'm going to get in trouble for a little accident like that—"

"I had a goose egg for a week," Mandy argued.

"You should ask Henry how he got his last four dates."

Henry, who had been reading something else on the wall turned at the mention of his name.

"What?" he asked.

"How did you get your last four dates, Henry?" Nick asked, crossing his arms across his chest.

Henry didn't answer, or smile. "I asked them out."

"You did not," Bobby said.

"Yes I did."

"Really, because I remember overhearing you tell the last girl how you broke the last serial murders with your superior CSI skills."

"Oh… Well… I was just… It was at a club." Henry slid his hands in his pants pockets, looking innocent.

"Go on," Nick said. "We'd all love to know how you broke that case with your mad CSI skills."

Henry grimaced. "So maybe I told a little fib."

"Just how little?"

"Well… Uhm… I only got one date out of it."

Nick shook his head. "You're right, Cat. It's always the quiet ones."

She nodded. "You have a rule to add, dear Henry."

"But it wasn't in the lab. And—"

"It's been called out. You have to add it now."

"But—"

"Sorry, man, you have to add it," Hodges told him.

With a heavy sigh, he added the rule:

* * *

**297. Lab rats must never impersonate a CSI to get a date**

* * *

"Just for that I'm hexing everyone!" Henry said.

"No. No spells in the lab," Ecklie said.

"But—"

"No. None. And by the way…" Ecklie started writing. "We have to have some semblance of order in the lab."

* * *

**298. While it is rare that all the evidence from one case concludes processing at exactly the same time, this is **_**not**_** a 'bad omen' and 'superstitious charms' are not necessary. (This includes but is not limited to: no cats of any color, tossing salt or rice over the shoulder even in the break room where it's 'on the floor anyway', birds – caged or otherwise, only Bobby's blow-up sheep is allowed in the lab, no breaking of wine glasses or any other type of drinking glass, no avoiding the cracks or seams in the tiles, no bugs, no bouquets of four-leaf clover placed **_**everywhere**_**, and you will not wear clothing inside out.**

* * *

The room was silent when he added the last period; so silent that they could hear each other breathing. Ecklie turned to face them.

All of a suddenly the lab techs and CSI burst out in protest. Grissom laughed, shaking his head. He turned and sat down, returning to his crossword puzzle. He glanced up when Catherine sat down in the chair next to him, watching them. She smiled, laying her hand on his arm.

"You did a good thing, Grissom," she whispered.

"What do you mean?"

"Letting them work on this as a case. We always had the best team, but now… Did you notice how they handled that situation last week? That citizen was out to slander Greg and dead set on getting him fired. Did you see how even Hodges stayed to work on the case – even putting this one," she tapped at the puzzle, "aside – all to protect him. And it hasn't been the first time these last few months. This room does seem to have that ability."

"Humans like to belong. It's our nature. And the room isn't supernatural; it's just a room that gives us all a place to belong."

"Okay, Gil." She leaned back, watching them again.

He shrugged. "I have noticed, Catherine."

She smiled, dropping the subject to watch their team. Grissom sighed, looking up the wall. His eyes stopped on writing at the top. He slowly stood, staring at it.

"What is it?"

"The mystery writer was here before we were."

She looked up where he was staring, staring at the flower next to writing. She glanced at the one opposite them and then back.

"HEY!" Catherine said, standing.

Everyone turned to her.

"This person was in here before any of you were," Catherine said, pointing up.

They crowded around them, staring at the quote: _"Science is not a sacred cow. Science is a horse. Don't worship it. Feed it." Aubrey Eben. Motto for the New Year of 1999_

"This person sure does like horses," Henry said.

"I think our clues are starting to come together now," Grissom pointed out. But then he fell silent; because even he had no idea who they knew that liked or had an association with horses.


	20. Not All Clowns Are Named ‘It’

20) Not All Clowns Are Named 'It'

Ecklie slammed his phone down, hoping the Sergeant had been on the other end when he did it. He sank back in his chair, closing his eyes for a minute. Because that was all he had between the action and a lab tech entering his office.

"Sir, I need these signed off."

Ecklie looked up at the speaker; Martin Cole, one of the day shift's number one lab techs. He was the labs temporary supervisor for another three or four weeks – and then Ecklie would have to decide if he was going to stay on as supervisor, or day shifts supervisor was going to be removed from suspension.

"What is this?" Ecklie asked, holding his hand out for the papers.

"The investigation between Tiffany and James."

Ecklie resisted a long sigh. Tiffany had quit two weeks ago, then turned around and sued the police department, claiming her supervisor had sexually harassed her. As this report had told him, she and her supervisor were dating behind Ecklie's back, the supervisor caught her cheating with another lab tech, and one thing led to another, right into this really big mess. Why couldn't they have kept it simple like Gil and Sara had? Hidden until it had been exposed, and even then it was kept quiet until the day she left.

Ecklie scribbled his signature across the bottom and then stood, handing the papers back.

"If you guys need me, call my cell."

"Are you going to lunch?"

"Something like that," Ecklie answered as he walked out.

He walked to the elevators and tapped the call button.

"Oh, Ecklie, I'm glad I caught you," CSI Darla said as she ran up to him.

He sighed this time. He didn't want to be caught.

"We finished the analysis of the brake lines on the two cars. Cindy Cooper's line had been tampered with." Darla shoved her case file into his hands even though he hadn't been reaching for it.

He looked at the elevator when the doors opened for him. Wistfully he watched them close without him onboard. He turned his attention back to the case file she was flipping through.

"Here," she said, pointing to the report. "And the tool marks match a pair of pliers found in Steven Montgomery's toolbox."

She looked up at him with a bright smile. Ecklie turned an icy star on her and her smile faded.

"Except Steven has been in Japan for three months, Darla. Did you factor that into your investigation?" Ecklie couldn't resist thinking to himself, '_You really are a dumb CSI._'

"Oh. We did confirm that, didn't we?" she took the case file back.

It was a good thing she was only two weeks on the job or he'd have fired her right now.

"Can I go now?" Ecklie asked.

"Yeah," she said with that absent minded tone she used when she'd already gone back to her case.

Ecklie tapped the button again, watching her walk away. The elevator doors opened right away and he stepped on.

"Ecklie!" someone called.

He jammed his finger against the 'Door Close' button before they reached the elevator, and then tapped the large 'B.' He let out a long sigh, leaning back against the wall. The ride down was too short and the doors opened to let Robbins in and him out.

"Conrad, I have some files that need your signature. I can—"

"I'll come back to do that," Ecklie interrupted.

Robbins stopped half off the elevator, staring at him. Ecklie held his stare.

"Rough day?" Robbins asked.

Ecklie turned, walking away. He didn't want to answer that.

"I'll see you later then," Robbins called.

Ecklie waved his hand, turning towards records. The silence was deeper as soon as entered the vast room. He turned down the last aisle and stopped, seeing the light on under the door. He reconsidered retreating to The Wall. Course, maybe it was Grissom or Catherine. They'd leave him alone and let him write. Ecklie continued walking, grabbed a piece of chalk from the drawer, and let himself into the room. The person he found was Nick. He was sitting on the table, a pair of earbuds stuck in his ears and his eyes closed. Ecklie turned away from him, looking up at the wall to find where the last rule he recalled writing.

He started at 299:

* * *

**299. You will no longer copy down our 'witty lines' for any publication – magazine, story, book, you name it – GREG! **_**(Mandy's handwriting) Contributed by Mandi96**_

* * *

"There are days I don't know why I keep Greg."

"Or Hodges?" Nick asked.

Ecklie looked back. He had one earbud out and was watching Ecklie.

"Or you," Ecklie shot back, looking away.

Nick didn't respond, so Ecklie read the next one.

* * *

**300. We do not refer to children as "curtain crawlers." (**_**Mystery writer's neat print**_**)**

* * *

"Have you guys found out who this writer is, yet?" Ecklie asked.

"That all depends."

Ecklie looked back at him again. He was fiddling with his MP3 player.

"On?"

Nick looked up at him. "Everyone else is still stumped. Still pouring over the evidence."

"And you aren't?"

Nick slowly shook his head. "I know who it is. So does Grissom."

"Who is it?"

"After that 'or you' remark you're expecting me to be nice? Get real!"

Ecklie considered taking the remark back, but didn't. He read the next rule to himself:

* * *

**301. "Forensic for Dummies" and "The Complete Idiot's Guide to Criminal Investigation" are not books we refer rookies to – even if they are exceptionally stupid rookies. (**_**Mystery writer's neat print**_**)**

* * *

Ecklie turned to Nick. He was staring at his MP3 player.

"Nick."

Nick looked up at him. "Yeah?"

"Who is it?"

Nick just smiled.

"You don't really know who it is."

"Yeah. I do."

"For how long have you known?"

"Came to me during that murder case at the National Rodeo Finals. Figured the whole thing out then."

"So who is it?"

Nick shook his head. "You were a CSI. You get to figure it out with the rest of them."

"I could order you to tell me."

Nick laughed at him. "This isn't the army, _Conrad_. And since it's not even a real case, as you've made sure we knew that, you really have no authority to order me around."

Ecklie's eyes narrowed. This was the last thing his bad mood needed. He turned back to silently reading the rules.

* * *

**302. Just because the lab gets the Playboy channel doesn't mean I can watch it. **_**(Warrick's handwriting**_**)**

* * *

That made Ecklie smile. Only because, when he was a rookie, he had discovered that about their cable feed too. Back then he had been best friends with his CSI partner and they would sneak in to watch it on the morgue televisions. But after his best friend took a job in Chicago, that all ended.

* * *

**303. "A full magazine and some privacy" is not the way to help a potential suicide. (**_**Catherine's handwriting**_**)**

* * *

Yet another event that Ecklie was sure he didn't want to know about.

* * *

**304. You are not allowed to use words over 5 syllables to impress suspects at crime scenes – even if they are exceptionally 'hot.' (**_**Catherine's handwriting**_**) **_**Contributed by Mandi 96**_

* * *

That had to be Greg. He was too young to know better, and too old to get away with the crap he pulled.

* * *

**305. "Here kitty, kitty," is not an appropriate thing to say while processing a brothel. (**_**Catherine's handwriting**_**)**

* * *

Now there was a lawsuit waiting to happen.

* * *

**306. Lab coats are not robes and clothes must be worn underneath them at all times. (**_**Mandy's handwriting**_**)**

* * *

Did he want to know?

* * *

**307. Corpses do not need to be read their Miranda rights. They relinquished all rights when they died. (**_**Brass's handwriting**_**)**

* * *

Ecklie laughed.

"Which one?" Nick asked.

"Three hundred and nine."

"Ya know, Brass wrote that and Greg _still_ does it. Just quieter."

Ecklie shook his head, reading the next one:

* * *

**308. You will no longer sing, "Let the Bodies Hit the Floor" whenever someone drops a corpse. (**_**Robbins handwriting**_**) **_**Contributed by lady-lunastar**_

* * *

"What's with this one?"

"Apparently I'm never around when that happens, but you know it's got Greg written _all_ over it."

Ecklie nodded, reading the next one.

* * *

**309. Rocks are not sentient, therefore not alive, therefore rock evidence will not starve to death nor suffocate, and you do not need to rescue it. (**_**Grissom's handwriting**_**)**

* * *

"Henry?" he asked Nick.

"Yep."

"He's a strange kid."

"You have no idea."

Ecklie looked back at Nick. "I don't?"

"You should see him outside of the office, man. He's really strange."

"How strange?"

"Well, he's known for wearing his shirts inside out, for no apparent reason. He skips. A lot. Makes his brother laugh every time he does it. And he goes hog wild over cotton candy. Never seen a grown man get so happy over cotton candy."

"Has he always been like that? I mean, before his parent's death?"

"Dunno. Never hung out with him until after his parents died. Although… I asked Jason once and he said yes. Not sure how reliable a seven-year-old's answer is though."

Ecklie read the next rule:

* * *

**310. Acceptable attire includes reducing the length of your hair so it's not its own living entity. (**_**Grissom's handwriting**_**) **_**Contributed by CSIGeekFan's daughter**_

* * *

"Who's hair?"

"Greg. Hadn't you noticed the last few months?"

"Guess I hadn't, really."

"He's growing it out so he can spike it for Halloween."

"Don't they have wigs for that?"

"You convince the crazy man that."

"Have better luck convincing a horse to drink water."

"Amen."

Nick walked up to the wall and started writing:

* * *

**311. Under no circumstances am I allowed to shout at a fleeing suspect, "Stop! Or I'll stay stop again!"**

* * *

"You… Actually did this?" Ecklie asked.

Nick looked over his shoulder. "Yeah. I thought it was a good call at the time."

"And Grissom didn't?"

"Brass."

Ecklie nodded, agreeing with Brass. He walked to a spot a few feet from Nick and wrote:

* * *

**312. Imaginary games with imaginary friends in imaginary places are not permitted on city time. **

* * *

"Which rat?"

"My three stooges."

"Our three stooges, don'tcha mean?

"I guess so."

Nick chuckled, and then wrote down:

* * *

**313. Under the guise of teaching them how to say potentially useful phrases, I am no longer allowed teach rookies to say offensive and crude things in Spanish. **

* * *

"Grissom?"

"Why do you keep think Grissom always tells me not to do this stuff?"

"Because between you and Greg, you're going to not just make his hair turn gray but fall out."

Nick looked up at Ecklie's head, and then smiled evilly.

"Don't say it," Ecklie warned him.

"But, Ecklie, you—"

"Don't say it, Stokes."

Nick chuckled. Ecklie turned back to the wall, writing:

* * *

**314. Your supervisor has neither the time, nor the inclination, to hear about what you did with six boxes of Fruit Roll-Ups® and toothpicks.**

* * *

"Archie?" Nick asked.

Ecklie heaved a heavy, deep sigh. "Bobby."

"Okay… Is it just me or is Bobby just as weird as Henry?"

"Since I don't know Henry, I'll have to go with your decision on this one."

"Fine. They're weird. I'd hate to get them both drunk."

"Oh God!" Ecklie cried.

Nick started laughing as he wrote:

* * *

**315. You are not allowed to use the crime scene restroom. **

* * *

"For Greggo."

"That was years ago."

"I know. But still for Greggo."

Ecklie smirked when Nick looked up at him. "For my graveyard CSI." He wrote:

* * *

**316. There are no crime scenes that need 'recreated' by racing wheelchairs through any hall in any part of the building.**

**317. Nevada is not to be referred to as 'California's Smoking Section' under ANY context.**

* * *

"Hey, we had to recreate the hospital suicide to scale."

"The hospital suicide? What?"

"Yeah. Yeah. When you caught us, we were recreating the hospital suicide guy."

"And I ask again, what?"

"This guy was clinically depressed; he'd been trying to kill himself for months but kept screwing it up. So the last time he woke up in the hospital, he took a wheelchair, aimed it down a hall with a window at the end, and started rolling. Went right out the window and down four floors."

"Did he succeed this time?"

"Yeah. But we were having a hard time figuring out how it happened. And then you stopped us."

Ecklie pressed his lips into a thin line. "As I wrote, no crime scene needed that recreation. _And_, as I recall, you and your four partners in crime, were not re-creating a crime scene. I distinctly recall hearing you five talking about winning the wheel chair championship."

Nick stared at him. Ecklie crossed his arms.

"Nothing to say?"

"I don't call Nevada 'California's Smoking Section.'"

"Yes you do!"

"I do not."

"I have three newspaper articles I can show you being quoted saying it."

Nick grimaced. "They quoted me?"

Ecklie laughed. "No. But you just admitted you said it."

"You're a jerk."

"So you keep telling me."

"I'm changing the subject." Nick wrote:

* * *

**318. When responding to a crime scene involving a canine attack, "Werewolves of London" is not to be played on repeat the entire round trip.**

* * *

"Greg?"

"Why does everything have to be Greg? No. Warrick."

"I think I just mentioned how Greg does the most damage. And _Warrick_?"

"Oh yeah. Thankfully we don't have many calls with lawyers, he likes to play 'Lawyers, Guns and Money' to those calls, and back from those calls."

"_Warrick_?"

"You have no idea what that man is capable of with lack of sleep and lots of sugar."

"Just sugar?"

"The last time we had an issue with this," Nick pointed at his rule. "Four Mountain Dews, six Snickers, three pints of Ben and Jerry's later, I was about ready to lock him in a small room just to watch him bounce.

"This must've been after the divorce."

"That was eight months ago, this was Monday night."

"Ouch. Which Ben and Jerry's?"

"He started on Chunky Monkey™, moved to Half Baked™, and finished off with Phish Food™."

"And washed it all down with Mountain Dew?"

"Yeah."

"Gross." Ecklie wrote:

* * *

**319. You will not perform the conga through ALL the halls when all lab results point to the five or more suspects. **_**From PigXiaolin101's suggestion**_

* * *

"Where was I when this happened?"

"Your day off. During the day shift."

"Wait, you can't put rules down for day shift. They don't come in here." Nick hesitated, looking up at him. "Do they?"

"Nope. But I'd rather not catch anyone doing it."

"It wasn't even a little funny?"

"Funny, yes, but it scared the straights."

Nick busted out laughing, which made Ecklie smile. It also made him have to realizations: he was in a much better mood now, and this was the longest conversation he'd ever had with Nick Stokes – which made him wonder why that was.

"I never once expected _that_ to come out of your mouth, Ecklie. You really are different down here."

Ecklie's smile waned a little. He looked down at the chalk in his hand.

"Well, I guess…" Nick trailed off, and then wrote on the wall:

* * *

**320. I am not allowed to shoot at, or otherwise cause bodily harm to, any clown even if I believe that clown to be possessed and must die.**

* * *

Nick looked back when Ecklie didn't comment right away. He looked confused.

"What do you have against some poor schlump dressed up as a clown?"

"Clowns are evil."

"You watched 'It' too many times, didn't you?"

"No."

"Okay, then why?"

So Nick proceeded to, once again, explain why he hated clowns so much. And when he finished, Ecklie stared unblinking at him.

"Strangely, that story fits you, Nick."

"What does that mean?"

Ecklie smiled. "You'll figure it out." He headed for the door.

"Hey! Don't walk off without answering that! What does that mean?"

Ecklie stopped and spun, making Nick run into him. "Who is the mystery writer?"

Nick didn't answer.

"You tell me who the mystery writer is; I'll tell you what I meant."

Nick grinned. "You were a CSI. You'll figure it out."

Ecklie continued walking. Nick watched him a minute.

Suddenly Nick said, "Fine! I'll tell you. But only if you're buy lunch."

"Deal," Ecklie answered.

Ecklie glanced back, watching him hurry to get out of the room. He ran up to Ecklie and the two stared at each other a moment.

"First time we've talked outside of work. And The Wall," Nick said.

"Maybe we should have lunch at the hospital."

"Why?"

"We might have heart attacks."

Nick grinned. "Damn! I really had no idea you had a sense of humor."

Ecklie didn't reply as he looked away. There was a lot the CSI didn't know about him.


	21. Revealed

21) Revealed

The break came suddenly and unexpectedly, and entirely orchestrated by the Mystery Writer. The Writer knew that Nick had figured it out – he'd talked to the writer, off duty, away from the building. Nick had told the Writer who Grissom thought it was – Grissom was wrong. He had told the Writer that he'd thrown Ecklie off track by tossing him a false bone, because, even after a surprisingly interesting and enjoyable lunch with the supervisor he'd once hated, he still wasn't inclined to help him solve the Mystery Writer Case.

Nick was to be the accomplice, to help deliver the final clues so that the timing was right. He loved the job. Maybe it was the CSI blood in him, or maybe it was knowing something he knew the rest of the team didn't, or maybe it was his ornery, quick-witted, practical joke nature he'd had since he was two. Whatever the reason, he came into work with a grin.

"Evening!" Nick chirped as he came into the locker room.

Warrick was getting ready for his shift and looked up at him. "You're in a good mood."

Nick grinned some more. "It's going to be a great night."

"Your Lucky Charms tell you that?"

"Naw. Say, you want to meet me at The Wall for a beer after work?"

"I dunno. Let me see how the shift works."

Nick got serious suddenly. "I'd really like to. I got some stuff I need to talk about."

Warrick nodded. "Sure. I'll see you there after work."

Nick reached in his coat pocket and dug out an envelope. "Hey. This got slipped in my box by mistake."

Warrick took it. His eyes narrowed. "This looks like it was printed on a laser printer."

Nick smiled. "Wow. You're not even on a case and already looking for evidence. See you around. Or at least in the morning anyway." Nick headed out of the break room.

Warrick nodded. He tore open the envelope and pulled out the piece of paper. On it was printed: Your clue is: _I have brown hair. Your rule is __**326. If someone yells duck, don't ask why!**__ Someone else has the next clue, find them._

Warrick had no idea what the clue or hint meant, but he did know that word had gotten around that he'd yelled at Nick for asking why he told him to duck. The shooter opened fire and Warrick tackled Nick, landing them both right in a ditch full of sandburs. Neither had been hurt – short of spending a half hour picking out burs – but it had infuriated him that his friend had even questioned his order.

#

Nick sauntered into the break room, finding Greg sitting on the couch reading through a case file. He made himself a cup of coffee and walked over, sitting on the coffee table.

"What'ch'a got?" Nick asked as he sipped his coffee.

"DB found in an alley off Flamingo. Since she didn't have any I.D., I'm just waiting for Wendy or Mandy to tell me something good."

"Grissom hasn't handed out assignments yet?"

"We haven't had any. It's been a qu…" Greg stopped and smiled. "You know. One of those nights."

"You and your superstitions. Oh, hey…" Nick pulled an envelope out of his back pocket and handed it to Greg. "This got in my mailbox." Nick got up and headed for the door. "Guess I'll do some catch up tonight then."

"Night," Greg said as he tore open the envelope. He pulled out the piece of paper in side and his brow furrowed. On it was printed: _Who's my freakboy? __**321. You are not Batman, we do not have a Bat-Signal, and your Denali is NOT the Batmobile.**__ Someone else has the next clue, find them. _

He did too drive the Batmobile, and he really thought that they should have a Bat-Signal, but he'd never thought of himself as Batman.

Greg sat his case file next to him, and turned the paper over, then looked over the envelope. There was nothing noticeable on either of them. He grabbed his case file and jumped up, heading to a lab. Maybe a spectrograph would tell him something about it.

#

Gina came around the corner to find Nick standing at the reception desk writing on a folder.

"Did you need something?"

"A pen," Nick said without looking up.

She walked around the desk and sat down, and stared at the envelope propped up in her keyboard.

"Did you put this here?"

"Hm?" Nick asked as he strolled away.

She looked up, watching him leave. If he wasn't turning back, she guessed the answer was no. She opened the envelope and pulled out the piece of paper inside: _I'm bumbling. __**322. You are not allowed to sing "They're Coming To Take Me Away" while in the presences of a psychiatric suspect.**__ See the holder of rule number 323._

She smiled. She knew it was the Mystery Writer behind this, and now she was even more certain it was someone that worked graveyards. That was the only time Gina ever sang that song, although she usually sang it under her breath, and even though Grissom and Ecklie both had gotten after about it, she persisted. After all, without her, they would never know which end was coming and going. Gina picked up the paper and went in search of the holder of rule 323.

#

Nick walked into the DNA lab, reading over a results page. He looked up at Wendy as he stopped.

"Hey, Wendy, Catherine gave you some hair and swabs. Are those finished yet?"

"Yeah. It's over here."

She walked down the counter and picked up a file, straightening the papers in it. She tapped it on the edge of the desk and then sat it down, arranged the papers again, and handed it to him.

"You are taking that to her, right?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"Because the last time you took results for her, it took her four hours to get them from you."

"I got distracted."

"Story of your life, Nicky." Wendy turned back to her work.

He chuckled, walking out of the lab with the file. He strolled through the building to Catherine's office. She was typing on her computer when he came in.

"Got the DNA back for the Flander's case."

"Oh good." She turned, holding out her hand for it.

Nick handed it over and she plopped it on her desk, opening it. Catherine stared at the envelope sitting on the top with her name on it. She looked up at Nick. He'd already sat down and was looking over his notes.

"I'm really leaning toward the daughter. She had—"

"What is this?" Catherine asked, holding up the envelope.

He looked up and his brow furrowed. "I dunno."

"You didn't put it in here?"

"Naw."

She tore it open and pulled out a piece if paper.

"What is it?"

Catherine smiled. "Well, it seems our Mystery Writer is getting brave. It says: I was born in 1972. Your rule is number **three twenty-three. You may not bargain for information by removing an article of clothing for each piece of good information.** There is someone else in the building that holds the next clue. Find them." _**Rule contributed by NoDakGrl**_

"Ballsy." Nick said.

She looked up at him. "Who do _you_ think it is?"

Nick shrugged. "One of the janitors? A couple of them have full access even to records, and they are the ears and eyes of this institution. Course Grissom seems to believe it's that crotchety old lady in H.R. I think he's _way_ off with that guess."

She frowned at him a moment. "Did you just quote a line from a movie?"

"Yeah. Breakfast Club. So about Flanders…"

Catherine looked at the paper. "Hey, why don't you work on this? I'm going to go check something out."

"Such as?"

"Just something. I'll be back." She headed for the door.

"Catherine, I have other cases I need to catch up on."

"Work on them instead. I'll come find you."

Nick looked back and then at the case file. He picked it up and started reading it.

#

Archie tapped away at a computer, working through the suspect's emails. He glanced back when his computer roared like a Jurassic Park Tyrannosaurus Rex. He pushed himself away from the desk and rolled across the room to it. A new email had arrived, but he didn't recognize the sender. But the subject intrigued him: From The Wall to Archie. He opened it and contained in the electronic message was: _Take the clue from the owner of 325 to the owner of 327. __**Rule 324. You are CSI and lab rats, not hackers; therefore you may not call yourself: Zero Cool, Crash Override, Acid Burn, Cereal Killer, Phantom Freak, The Plague, Lord Nikon, Kevin Mitnick, Condor, Riddick, Razor or Blade.**_

He grinned. How many times had he told and told and told the CSI, and some lab rats, that? This person was present when he said it. It had to be someone working graveyard. Archie started back tracking the email, trying to locate where it came from.

#

Robbins and David exited the elevator together. David's nose was buried in an autopsy report. Robbins mind was at home with his wife and the Black Forest cake with fresh cherry glaze she promised him. The two walked into the morgue and Robbins turned to the computer, sitting down. David walked over to the autopsy table and sat the report down, and then stared at the envelope propped up on it, and addressed to both of them.

"Someone left an envelope here, Doc Robbins."

Robbins got up and walked over. He reached for the envelope.

"You shouldn't touch it without gloves," David said.

"Why is that?"

"What if there are prints on it?"

"What if it's the Mystery Writer dropping us a line?"

"What?"

"Look at the print. That's the Mystery Writer." Robbins picked it up and tore it open.

David leaned over his arm, reading out loud, "I love the smell of Lavender. Your rule is **three hundred and twenty-five; I will no longer sing the cause of death to the tune of a dead rock star's hit song.** The keeper of rule three hundred and tewnty-eight might help solve the mystery." _**Contributed by hinaprincess**_

The two stared at the paper.

"It's someone we work with," David said.

Robbins shot him a 'duh' look.

"I mean someone who works our shift."

"Ya think?" Robbins handed it to him. "I'm guessing one of the crew has rule three hundred and thirty-eight. Go find them."

"Okay." David took the paper and hurried out of the room.

Robbins picked up the autopsy report and started reading it.

#

Wendy leaned in, watching what Hodges was doing under the fume hood. He looked at her.

"What does that rock smell like rotten eggs?" she asked.

"It's sulfur."

"Where did that come from?"

"What stinks?" Nick asked, appearing on Hodge's other side.

"Sulfur."

"Why do you have sulfur? And what are you doing to it?"

"I'm trying to figure out what caused the rocks on the Bowman case to explode. Robbins and David found sulfur fragments in the wounds, so I'm starting there."

"You're going to stink up the lab again, aren't you?" Wendy asked.

"Yeah. You are," Nick told him. "Like you did two weeks ago with those carp."

Hodges looked up. "I can't work like this."

"Like how?" Nick asked.

"With you two leaning over me."

"I need my trace results. You got them?"

"No. I don't. You're number four hundred and seventy-five. Thankfully it's slow tonight or you'd be number five hundred and seventy-five instead."

"I can't move on my suspect without them."

"Really?" Hodges looked at him. "And neither can any of the other CSI until I get their trace done, so, take a number and go bug someone else until I call you."

Nick frowned at him. "You're grouchy tonight."

"I'm just frustrated over…" Hodges trailed off.

"Over what?" Wendy asked.

"Nothing. Go away. Both of you."

Nick reached in his back pocket and sat an envelope down next to Hodges. "That was in my mailbox tonight. Let me know when I can actually order arrests for bad guys."

Hodges shot him a frown as he left. Wendy walked around Hodges, reaching for the envelope.

"Do you mind?" Hodges snapped.

"What?"

"Don't touch my mail."

"You're busy. I was just trying to be nice."

Hodges sighed. "Okay. Fine. Tell me what it says." He continued working.

Wendy opened the envelope and pulled out the paper. She read to him, "The greatest athlete in my life is Foxfire Flint. Your rule is number **three hundred and twenty-eight. When you are finished with fish evidence, it goes in the biohazard container, not a co-worker's locker.** Find the young doctor who has rule number three hundred and thirty."

While she read it Hodges was trying to hastily pull his hands out of the rubber gloves and out of the hood. He finally got them out as she finished the last word and yanked the paper from her hand.

"Thank you for reading that."

"What's that mean?"

"Nothing."

"Who would send you something like that? It sounds kinda creepy."

"Creepy?"

"Yeah. It's like they knew Greg and Nick put those fish in your locker last week. Is someone stalking you?"

"No! No. I'm fine."

She didn't look convinced. Hodges plastered a smile to his face. "It's all part of my game."

She rolled her eyes, turning away. "I don't even want to know then."

Hodges watched her leave and then re-read the message. Doctor? Robbins? No. It said young doctor. David? He started for the door, and then stopped, looking back at his experiment. He couldn't leave until he finished, not with the unstable chemicals under the hood. He went back and continued his experiment

#

Henry walked into the break room and opened the refrigerator. He fished his sack lunch from the back, bought a soda and sat down at the table and began unpacking. He stopped when he felt something unusual inside. He grabbed it and pulled out an envelope with his name printed on it. Henry pealed open the flap and pulled the paper out. The note read: _I once died to make viewers scream. Your rule is number __**327. Even with your scientific smarts, you are not MacGuyver.**__ Have a conversation with a shrunken head, and you'll find your next clue._

Henry smiled a little. The Mystery Writer knew him well. Several times he had proclaimed he was the next MacGuyver – an '80's show he and his little brother had just recently discovered and fell in love with. They watched an episode every night and Jason could quote most of them. Henry set it aside and unwrapped his sandwich. After his supper he'd try to figure out the shrunken head riddle.

#

Bobby came out of the restroom as Nick was going in.

"Hey, Bobby, I sent bullets to you a couple nights ago. Do—"

"I called you like three times tonight. They're done."

"Yeah? Anything good?"

"No. Not IBIS hits. Looks like that trail went cold fast."

"Damn. Okay. Oh, this was in my mailbox." Nick pulled an envelope from his back pocket and handed it to Bobby. "I'll come grab the report in a few minutes.

Bobby took the envelope and started walking down the hall. He opened it, and pulled out the paper, reading: _My birth month is October. The Wall Rule, __**number 332, states: If it looks like an explosive, it probably is.**__ Someone of authority has the next clue._

Bobby stopped walking, staring at the paper.

"Bobby," Warrick said, coming up behind him.

"Yeah?"

"Did you finish my… Where did you get that?"

Bobby looked up at Warrick. He was staring at the paper in Bobby's hands.

"Nick said he found it in his mailbox."

"He did?"

"Yeah."

"He said mine was in his too."

"You have one?"

"Yeah." Warrick dug his out and held it out. "Let me read yours."

The swapped notes and read them, then swapped back.

"This isn't helping," Warrick said, staring at his paper. "Most of the people here have brown hair."

"And I don't know anyone's birthday."

"I bet Gina does! Come on."

The two headed back down the hall, passing the bathroom as Nick came out. He watched them leave and then headed down the hall with a mischievous smile. He passed Brass's office as he came out.

"You look like you just ate a canary," Brass told him.

"I think I have a case solved. Just waiting on trace from backlogged Hodges."

"That could be awhile. Are you planning on going out for supper?"

"Not tonight. Hey, you want to meet at the Wall for a beer after our shift? I need someone's ear to bend."

"Sure." Brass headed for the elevators.

"Oh, hey, this was in my mailbox."

Brass turned, staring at the envelope Nick held out. He walked back, taking it and staring at his name.

"This handwriting looks familiar."

"I thought so too." Nick's phone started ringing.

He started walking away as he answered it. "Yeah? Hey. Naw, I gotta talk to Mandy and Grissom. Then I'll be right there. That sounds great. Thanks for doing that for me. Bye." Nick hung up calling back. "I'll see you then, Brass."

"Okay." Brass tore open the envelope, pulling out the paper and reading: _Some might know me as Miss Bimms. Wouldn't you like to add rule __**number 331, You may not drop a full pop bottle from a second story window when no one is looking, and yell 'gun' when it hits the pavement.**__ The one that holds rule number 333 holds all the answers._

So the Mystery Writer had to be someone that knew he'd about demanded Nick to be fired over that prank. It was only funny in hindsight, and wouldn't be funny if the CSI ever did it again. He guessed it was a lab tech, well, one of them. There were twelve now that weren't part of the Crew. Brass put the paper in his pocket, and headed for Grissom's office. Two heads were better than one in deciphering the clues.

#

Ecklie sighed a long breath, standing. It was after midnight and he had to be back at eight. He hated long days like this. He stood up as Wendy came in with a stack of case files.

"I'm not signing those today."

"I know. But they'll be here waiting for the morning."

"You're too kind."

She smiled. "I know, Conrad. This fell out of them. Not really sure how it got mixed up with them." She handed him an envelope.

Ecklie was pulling on his jacket and stopped, staring at it. He took the envelope, staring at his name.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing." He smiled.

"You know, Hodges got one that looked just like that. Are you sure everything's alright? His had this weird message."

"What was it?"

She told him the message. Ecklie only smiled more. Sounded to him like the Mystery Writer was getting ready to show him or herself.

"That is strange. Thank you for this. I'll see you tomorrow."

She offered him a smile and left. Ecklie sat down on the edge of his desk and tore open the envelope. He pulled out the paper, reading the message: _You hired me. You complain about the hours you work, but rule number __**three hundred and thirty-one on the wall states dead people don't care about your schedule.**__ You might find this shift lasts longer when you try to hunt down the owner of rule number three hundred and thirty-two._

Ecklie looked up, watching the people outside his office. Was it someone in the Wall Crew that had the clue? Or another technician? He left his office, in hot pursuit of the carrier of rule number 342.

#

Grissom sat in the alcove of his office that was filled with entomology books. He was trying to identify the strange bug he and Catherine had found inside a wound of the recently departed Mister Crick. He'd already determined it wasn't a native bug, and he was suspecting it wasn't even from the United States now.

"Grissom," Nick called as he came in.

Grissom looked up. He could only see Nick's abdomen through the shelves.

"Back here, Nicky."

Nick walked back to him, opening a folder to show him a photo. It showed a man's leg and there was an imprint on it.

"I'm having a heck of a time identifying this. It looks like a tire tread, but it's too wide."

Grissom put his pencil in his mouth and took the photograph. He stared at it for a few minutes and then handed it back. He took the pencil out of his mouth.

"I'm going to guess that on his other side you found tread marks?"

"Yeah. How'd you guess?"

"That's not a tread, Nick. That's a sewer grate." Grissom pointed to a place where half an R was. "That's the end of the word. Did you find him on his back?"

"Yeah. And lividity had set in on his back."

"Either he rolled over on his own or his killer rolled him over. You'll have to look somewhere else for clues."

Nick frowned, looking at the photo. "Alright. Thanks." Nick turned to go, then stopped and turned back. "Hey. I found this in my box."

Grissom took the envelope he handed him. "Thank you."

"I'm going to head out to lunch."

"Okay. See you in an hour."

Nick headed for the door, passing Brass on his way in. They flashed smiles as they passed. Grissom glanced at Brass then back at the envelope he was opening.

"Is that a clue?" Brass asked.

"What?"

Brass held out his note. Grissom took his and read it. He handed it back and then took his clue out of the envelope.

"What does it say?"

"It says find the Big Kahuna to follow the trail. You'll have to add rule number **three tweny-nine to the wall; no condiment may be used to replace any processing chemicals, even if the condiment contains chemicals needed for a process.**" Grissom held the paper up to the light. "No watermarks or noticeable marks."

"So, I'm thinking the entire crew got these, but I haven't talked to them."

"Then why are you talking to me?"

Brass smiled. "I was starting with you."

Grissom sat his books down. "I'll go out hunting with you."

The two headed out to search out the holders of the next clues.

#

Nick walked into the fingerprint lab and handed Mandy a bagged glass. "I need a rush on this, Mandy. I need it ASAP, so can you start on it now? I'm sorry to ask, but the lady's lawyer is pushing to have the charges dropped if we can't prove she was even remotely involved."

She turned to him, giving him a level stare.

"I'm sorry!"

"And right you should be." She held her hand out for the glass.

He handed it over, and she sat it down. Mandy stood, pulling on gloves to start working on the glass. Nick dug a worn envelope from his pocket. "I found this outside when I was coming in. Has your name on it."

He sat it on the counter next to her, and then headed for the door. "See you later."

"Okay." Mandy picked up the envelope.

She tore it open as Greg walked past. He stopped and came in.

"Did you get an envelope too?"

She looked up at him. "Yeah. Why? Did you too?"

Greg held up his note. "Yeah. It has a clue from the Mystery Writer. I was just running the paper and didn't find anything special about it."

Mandy pulled the paper out of the envelope.

"What's yours say?"

She read the message to Greg, not seeing Catherine and Archie come in, "It says, your rule is number **three hundred and thirty-three. "I wonder what this does" is never something you want to hear a fellow lab rat say.** My accomplice, Mandy, just handed you the ultimate clue and…" Mandy stopped, looking down at the glass.

"What?" Greg asked.

She looked up at him, then at the other two. "Nick just handed me this glass. He said it was high priority and I need to run it now."

"Nick's this person's accomplice?" Archie asked.

Catherine smiled, shaking her head. "That sneaky rat!"

"Hey, is this where the party is?" Brass asked as he and Grissom came in.

"We just discovered Nick's the Mystery Writer's accomplice," Greg told them.

"Nick?"

"Hurry up, Mandy. Get some prints off that thing," Catherine told her.

Mandy opened the bag and pulled out the glass. She picked up a dust brush and began coating the glass.

"She has prints?" Grissom asked.

"Nick handed her a glass," Archie told him.

Ecklie and Hodges came in. "What's going on?" Ecklie asked.

"Well, Nick is the writer's accomplice and he just gave Mandy a glass with prints."

"Where's Nick?" Hodges asked.

"He said he was going out for lunch," Mandy and Grissom answered.

"He told me he wasn't," Brass argued.

"Hey guys," David said as he crowded into the room with them. "Does anyone else have one of these?" David held up the clue.

Everyone else held up theirs.

"Wow. I guess tonight's the night."

"Is something exciting going on?" Gina asked.

She, Bobby and Warrick came into the room.

"Mandy, come on. Get us some prints here," Greg urged.

"You want to print this?" Mandy shot back.

She put it under a camera and snapped two photographs, then turned to her computer. The group waited in silence while it whirred away, going through its database to track down the Mystery Writer. The screen suddenly populated and Mandy's jaw dropped, followed by several laughs.

The Crew crowded in around her, staring at the information.

"I think we need to get down to The Wall," Grissom suggested.

As one the group made a beeline for the elevator.

#

Nick stared at the rules while he ate his fries. "I love Frank's fries," he said as the door opened. "Thanks for picking this up."

The Crew came in and stared at him and Wendy Simms. She couldn't hold her smile back, but she didn't stop eating her hamburger, either.

"Hi," Wendy said to them, and to Nick. "It was the least I could do for my diabolic accomplice."

"You had to do this?" Ecklie asked, holding up the papers.

"Yeah. It was fun. Kinda like Clue but without the silly names."

"You don't think Miss Bimms is a silly name?"

"That's my…" Hodges started.

She peeled back some wrapper, telling him, "That's what freakboy decided to call the game piece that represented me, huh? Mindy Bimms."

"Oh! How could I have missed that!?" Greg said, turning to a wall. He pretended to beat his head on the wall. "That was so… RIGHT THERE!"

"I don't get my clue," Hodges said.

"You woulda if you'd figured out Henry had three hundred and thirty-eight."

"What was it?" Henry asked.

Hodges showed him.

"Oh, that's the name of her horse."

"You have a horse?" Hodges asked.

"I have three. Foxy is actually a retiree. Had her since I was sixteen."

"You ride horses? Someone who can't keep from dropping her coffee cup on a nightly basis?"

She persed her lips, and then told him, "You are so slow."

"Hey, I—"

"Did you figure out your clue?"

"No. But—"

"Did you figure out Henry had the next one?"

"No! But—"

"Then you're slow."

Hodges glared at her. "If Henry had my clue, why'd you put the young doctor?"

The room went silent. He looked back at the others, then her.

"What?" he asked them.

"Henry has two doctorates, Hodges," Wendy informed him. "And he's twenty-four. So young, as in not real old; doctor, as in he has two doctorates."

Hodges looked at Henry. "You have two doctorates?"

"You really are slow," Henry answered.

The group chuckled. Hodges just glared.

"Well, welcome to the Crew," Catherine said. "So are we supposed to write our rules?"

"Naw. We did that." Nick said, motioning to the wall. "Can you believe we have three hundred and forty-three? I didn't realize that many had gone up since I was last down here."

They looked up at the list that surrounded them.

"Grissom, its fun making faces at people behind the one-way," Greg told him, pointing at his rule.

* * *

**334. No CSI or lab tech behind the one-way mirror is allowed to make faces at the people interviewing or being interviewed.**

* * *

"Because the last thing we need a suspect to hear is you guys laughing. And if you don't stop taping paper cut outs to the window tape over people's faces, I'm going to add that next."

"But it's so much fun!"

Grissom looked at Catherine. "You explain it."

She stared at him a minute then looked at Greg. "Greg, I said no. No!"

They all laughed. Ecklie's died first as he read the next one.

* * *

**335. We are neither hackers nor the NSA, therefore we do not own, nor do we wish to own, 'The Ugly Red Book.' Stop asking.**

* * *

"What on earth is that?" Ecklie asked.

"It's a book."

Ecklie shot him a narrow eyed glare. "Really? It is?"

Archie grinned. "It's a hacker thing."

"You're a hacker?"

"No. But every so often Warrick and Nick seem to think they are. Then they crash the entire network."

"I didn't even touch the computer when it crashed!" Warrick retorted.

"You were thinking of touching it. That counts," Greg told him. "The machinery felt threatened by the mere vibe."

"Lay off the coffee tonight."

"Hey, look what Catherine's doing," Greg said, pointing at the next rule.

* * *

**336. No matter how much they may or may not deserve it, I cannot arrest children for being rude.**

* * *

"You didn't," Ecklie said.

She persed her lips and then smiled. "It was a very serious thought and I was that close to doing it." She held up her fingers to show the span of her patience. "The kid was a complete brat. Back talked his parents and everyone. He really deserved it."

"But you didn't."

"It was still a thought."

Ecklie smiled.

"What's wrong with one liners from that show?" Archie said. "That show rocks!"

* * *

**337. Using more than two one liners from 'That 70's Show' in one night will result in all female co-workers having week-long PMS. **_**Contributed by PigXiaolin101**_

* * *

"Because you seem to enjoy saying them, repeatedly, in my presence. I really don't want to leave this job being able to quote some show about teenagers."

"Amen," Catherine said.

"I second that motion," Mandy said.

"And with a unanimous female rule," Wendy told him. "You, Archie Johnson, are hereby banned from one liners from that show."

"You guys suck!"

"And you can't sing Eulogy when you visit the morgue," David told him.

* * *

**338. You may not sing any song that is titled 'Eulogy' in the morgue. Ever. **_**Suggestion by Gotsta Have My Hardy**_

* * *

Archie looked from the rule to him. "I don't visit the morgue."

"In case you did."

"I would never visit the morgue. Not unless I was dead. Very dead. No pulse dead."

"There's another type of dead?" Grissom asked him.

"There's the kinda of dead."

"How are you 'kinda' dead?"

"You know, like zombies and vampires and—"

"Why do I even bother?" Grissom asked. "Who is John McClane?"

* * *

**339. Just because John McClane did it doesn't mean you can.**

* * *

The entire room retorted, "You don't know who John McClane is!?"

Grissom looked calmly at them. "Should I?"

"You need to rent more movies. More action movies," Nick told him.

"So this is an actor?"

"No. A character," Catherine answered.

"He bounces a lot," Gina added.

"Bounces?" Grissom asked.

"Yeah. He falls off things, gets beat up, shot, but he bounces, still kills the bad guys."

"I see. I don't feel I'm missing much. I see, Conrad, you've discovered my crew doing something they're not supposed to again."

* * *

**340. You may not use shoe casts as paperweights at or after a crime scene.**

* * *

"Not all of them. Just the usual suspects."

"Nick and Greg?"

"Yeah."

"I did not," the two argued simultaneously.

The two men looked at them, and Greg was the first to crack a wide guilty grin.

"And you, Sanders, cannot do that anymore," Grissom said, pointing at the next rule.

* * *

**341. Suggesting that there are 'scales of physical attractiveness' pertinent to any case are no longer allowed. **_**Suggested by NoDakGrl**_

* * *

"But… It helps."

"Helps? How?"

"I get more answers."

"How do you get more answers?"

"I get more yes answers."

"Yes answers?"

"For dates," Nick told them.

Grissom smiled, "And then you wonder why we always suspect you when something goes awry."

"Yeah. Cuz I'm the CSI putz!"

"No. Nick's the CSI putz." Warrick motioned at the wall. "Between the clowns and suits, I'm not sure which he thinks is going to get him first."

* * *

**342. The men in black are not here to zap our memories.**

* * *

"Hey, I'm getting better. My therapy is helping."

"You're in therapy?" Hodges asked.

Nick turned his head, settling a cool stare on him. "Yeah. Eight hours a day."

"I don't get it," Hodges said.

"Hodges, you are so slow," Wendy told him.

"Do we have to let her into the crew?" Hodges asked.

"Yes," the rest answered.

She smiled when he looked back, but kept her eyes on her hamburger.

"Greg, you are going to be the death of me yet," Grissom told him.

* * *

**343. A crime scene is not the ideal place to test untested processing theories. **_**Author's note:**__**This one should be Ryan, but that's that other series**_

* * *

"Hey. You always tell me to read the journals, but you never actually mention I shouldn't try anything I read in the journals."

"I wouldn't think I'd have to."

"You always do. I'm slow."

"That's Hodges."

"I'm still in the room, ya know!" Hodges cried.

Grissom only glanced at him, but Greg laughed.

All of a sudden phones started ringing.

"Well, so much for a quiet night," Nick said as he got up and started packing his supper into the bag it had come in.

Wendy watched the others leave, waiving and saying good-bye. She turned back to her hamburger. Hodges slunk back into the room.

"Uhm… Do you really think I'm slow?"

She looked up at him, holding his stare for several minutes. She smiled.

"Think of how you could use this entire Mystery Writer thing in your game. It would make an interesting round, wouldn't it?"

Hodges smiled. "Yes it would."

He left her to finish her supper alone.


	22. So You Can Get Through The Day

22) The Non-Drowsy, Congested-Stuffy Head, Sore Throat, Cough, Aching, Fever So You Can Get Through The Day Medicine

Catherine walked down the hall to records, swiped her badge, and walked in. She paused to look at the paper in her hand, and then walked down to row J. She slowly started down the aisle, looking for the box labeled with case file XS-20010206.

Someone coughed and she stopped, listening. She didn't hear them again so she resumed her search. The person coughed again. She stopped and listened, waiting for the cough. It came and she went in search of the person. Following the cough brought her to The Wall door, and the person coughing inside.

She slipped between the filing cabinet and wall, pushing the door opened. The light wasn't turned on, so she flicked it on.

"Nooooooo!" she heard Greg whine and turned.

He was lying on the floor in a sleeping bag, hugging a pillow over his head. Sitting on the floor beside him was an arsenal of medicine.

"What are you doing in here?" she asked.

In a stuffy, congested voice he answered, "Sleeping, until you turned on the light."

"Greg, you're sleeping on the floor in the basement."

"I know that."

"Why?"

"The air conditioning broke in my apartment. I was dying."

"I don't think sleeping on a cement floor in the basement is going to help your cold."

"Go away!" Greg threw his pillow at her.

She smiled, picking it up. She walked over and crouched down beside him. He looked up at her with the most pathetic look she'd seen in a while. She reached down, running her fingers through his hair. His head was damp with fevered sweat.

"You really feel lousy, huh?"

He nodded.

Catherine reached down and slid the pillow under his head. She sat down next to him, rubbing his back. Greg closed his eyes.

"You're a good mom," Greg muttered as he fell asleep.

She smiled, looking up at the wall. She smiled, surprised to see more rules had been added. Catherine hugged her knees, reading them.

* * *

**344. Even if a victim is killed with a straight razor blade and the criminal turns out to be a man, we do not call him the Demon Barber of Fleet Street. (**_**Nick's handwriting.**_**)**

* * *

She remembered the night this referred to…

#

Nick had just seen the movie and kept saying he was shocked at how gory it was. The previews never made it look as gory as it really was. He was still going on about it at a crime scene that she, Nick, and Grissom were processing. But then he made the fatal mistake of comparing a man whose throat had been slit by the straight razor lying nearby to one that had been killed in the movie.

Grissom had a moment of lost patience with Nick.

He turned around to his CSI and told him, "Perhaps if you actually attended live theatre instead of constantly going to films, you would have, at some point, attended a theatrical production of Sweeney Todd. Then, going to see it where they grotesquely ruin the play with visual effects and take away the audience's ability to see the play as it should be seen, you wouldn't be so surprised, and four hours into our shift, it wouldn't _still_ be the topic of conversation. Would it?"

Both were surprised by how passionately Grissom had just revealed that he didn't like plays being made into movies. The night was quiet after that, Nick and Grissom hardly spoke.

"Grissom," Nick started.

The three were sitting in Grissom's office discussing the case and this comment came out of the blue, right in the middle of discussing the possibility that murderer at large may have be a relative.

"I think you're wrong that plays being turned into movies losing their meaning," Nick continued. "Think about how all of us CSI look at crime scenes. Half the time, when we start out seeing it in a completely different ways, but by the time we get to the end, we're all seeing it the same way. That's all that happens with the play being turned into a movie. And even then, Grissom, we all see things different. Even with visual effects."

Catherine realized that Nick's silence had never been anger. He had been thinking hard on what Grissom had said to him, probably weighing Grissom's belief against his own, looking for just the right angle to debate his stand against Grissom.

Grissom stared at Nick, who stared right back. Then a smiled of pride crossed Grissom's lips. He enjoyed it when his employees revealed they weren't willing to take his word for it and used their mental wile to take that stand.

"I challenge you to attend Sweeney Todd with me next month. Then we can continue this debate."

"You're on."

And with that, the two went right back to the case.

#

Catherine wondered what had ever become of that challenge. She'd have to remember to ask one of them.

* * *

**345. No matter how funny the corpse looks (i.e. expression, not attire), we do not laugh at dead people. (**_**Robbin's handwriting.**_**) inspired by rose-in-may**

**346. While purchasing a plane ticket for a co-worker to go to China is nice, purchasing a one-way plane ticket to China is not. (**_**Hodge's handwriting.**_**)**

* * *

She was going to have to ask about that one.

* * *

**347. I will not cough on my co-worker because I don't like him or her. (**_**Hodge's handwriting.**_**)**

* * *

Poor, poor Hodges… Nobody likes him. Everybody hates him…

* * *

**348. I will not accept a box of snot covered rubber gloves as a present while in the company of my underlings or otherwise. (**_**Grissom' handwriting.**_**)**

* * *

Who had done that? No. Why had they done that?

* * *

**349. Gang tags are not to be used while playing: Scrabble, Boggle, Hang Man, Upwords, Balderdesh, Pass the Bomb, Mad Libs, or Wheel of Fortune. (**_**Archie's handwriting.**_**)**

* * *

Oh the lab rats up to their trouble making stunts.

* * *

**350. You will keep the color of my mucus to myself. (**_**Warrick's handwriting.**_**)**

* * *

That so sounded like something Grissom had done.

* * *

**351. You are not allowed to share 'cold remedies' on city time. (**_**Ecklie's handwriting.**_**)**

* * *

He must have caught wind of Warrick giving Nick, Archie, and Henry flasks of his grandma's 'cold remedy.' She'd had a whiff of the stuff. If it didn't kill you, it certainly would cure you!

* * *

**352. Long, multicolored scarves are not to be worn so you can play****Doctor Who at a crime scene. (**_**Nick's handwriting.**_**)**

* * *

He must be taking a stab at Greg's scarf. The one he'd been wearing got blood all over it at a crime scene, so he'd started wearing a multicolored one last night. Everyone gave him hell about it, which ended up making him grouchy and mean. She had intervened on a few fights between him and his co-workers, trying to keep the waters calm until Grissom came back to work.

* * *

**353. Nor are you allowed to show up at a crime scene wearing a deerstalker cap and smoking a calabash pipe. (**_**Warrick's handwriting.**_**)**

* * *

So many questions, not enough answers…

* * *

**354. Don't torment the CSI or lab rat with the flu. (**_**Greg's handwriting.**_**)**

* * *

She looked down at him. Ever since he'd had the avian flu, his immune system just didn't seem to be cope well with other virus. And his temperament when he was sick had gone downhill too. She got up and gathered all his medicine in his backpack lying nearby, then crouched down next to him.

"Greg," she said, shaking his shoulder.

"What?" he whispered.

"Come on, Greg. You can come sleep at my place."

"Too hot."

"I'll turn up the air conditioning. Come on, Greg. You can't sleep here on the floor."

Greg opened his eyes, looking up at her. He looked so pathetic it was heartbreaking. She smiled, rubbing his shoulder.

"Come on, Greggo. My pullout is comfortable and has your name all over it."

Greg slowly climbed out of his sleeping bag and followed her. She helped him through the tight space into Records and walked slowly alongside him. In the elevator he leaned on her, laying his head on her shoulder. She smiled, patting his cheek.

"You're a good mom," Greg told her.

"You keep telling me that. Thank you."

Greg nodded. The doors opened and he followed her off.

_John Mayer "Say"_


	23. Don't Send In The Clowns

23) Don't Send In The Clowns

Grissom walked off the elevator, his eyes on his folder. He walked up the receptionist desk, walking around the chairs that he had memorized the locations of, and stopped at the desk.

"Any message while I was out, Gina?"

There was no answer.

Grissom looked up. She was glaring at him.

"Any messages?" he asked again.

She stood, leaning over her desk and on the counter.

"Grissom, how long have I worked here?"

Grissom stared at her. He didn't know. This wasn't something he was in charge of keeping track off.

"I don't know," he honestly admitted.

"Twelve years. Started off days, went to nights, less stress. I've seen a lot of things go through here, a lot of crazy, crazy things."

"I'm taking it you've seen something crazy this morning?"

She stood up, putting her fists on her hips and shaking her head. "How could you, Grissom? How could you?"

Grissom was really confused. "How could I what?"

She sighed, sitting down and turning her back on him to start typing something.

"Gina… How could I what?"

"No messages. I've said my peace. Go away."

Grissom stared at her. He really felt like he should know what the hell was going on, but he didn't.

"Gina?"

"I said go away."

"I heard you, but I'm sorry, I don't know why you're angry with me."

"I'm not angry with you. Aghast, maybe, but not angry."

"And why are you aghast with me?"

She sighed, turning.

"Did you know that your CSI walked out tonight?"

Grissom stared at her. "My… Nick, Warrick, and Greg?"

"Yeah. They came in, handed everything to Catherine, and told her they quit. Then left."

"Did you hear why?"

"It's not my place to talk about it. But really, Grissom, you know how Nick hate's clowns. How could you traumatize him like that!?"

"Clowns? What?"

She turned her back on him. "Never mind. It's not my place to comment about things like that."

Grissom turned, hurrying out of reception. Now he had to find Catherine. This ended up not being very far away. She was in her office working on paperwork. She looked up as he came in.

"Gina told me Nick, Warrick, and Greg quit."

Catherine smiled, looking down at the paperwork. "They did. But they'll be back tonight."

"They told you that?"

"No. Just a gut feeling." She resumed writing.

"What happened?"

She looked up at him. "You didn't hear? It was all over the police band."

"I've been out at Indian Springs since the shift started. It was silent when I got back."

Catherine sat back. "First of all, Grissom, did you honestly forget Nick really hates clowns?"

"Is this about the circus murder?"

"Oh yeah!"

Grissom sat down a chair before her desk. "What happened?"

"It would be better to hear it from them. They're down at The Wall, nursing their pride and wounds."

"They were hurt?"

"Go talk to them." She leaned forward to start writing again.

Grissom sat the file on her desk. "I'll be back for that." He stood up.

"And Grissom," Catherine looked up at him. "Can I suggest not laughing at them? I'm pretty sure that's why they decided to quit when they were telling me what happened."

"I'll keep that in mind," Grissom told her as he walked out of the room.

#

Nick sat on the floor with an icepack pressed to either side of his bruised and swollen face. Warrick sat in a chair, one leg propped up on another chair, and holding an icepack to his knee. His face was just as swollen as Nick's. Greg sat on the table with his leg held out. His pants leg was torn from hip to hem revealing a bright white bandage dotted with blood. Each of them had a beer nearby and as if a choreographer had planned it, took turns taking a sip of their beverage. They were done talking. There was nothing left to say about the night or what had transpired. The three looked up when the door slowly opened and Grissom entered the room. Their expressions turned to hard, angry glaring snarls of detest.

"I understand there were some troubles at the circus tonight?" Grissom asked.

"Trouble?" Warrick snapped. "It was more than trouble, Grissom. It was a damned nightmare!"

"I hate clowns. Do you have any idea how much I hate clowns now? I mean, I really didn't like them before. After tonight, I really, really, _really, REALLY_, hate clowns!" Nick snarled.

"Does LVPD hire just stupid cops or do they only work on our shift?" Greg bit.

Grissom took the anger with a grain of salt. They had all been mad at him about one thing or another, they had all voiced their anger, but this was the first time all three were angry with him.

"Could we start at the beginning? Perhaps—"

"No!" Warrick cut him off, pointing at the wall. "We quit. We don't have to start anywhere."

Grissom looked at the wall, reading through the rules:

* * *

**355. The strong man at the circus generally isn't secure unless he's in a padded cell with elephant chains cemented into mile thick cinder blocks. (Warrick's handwriting)**

**356. Be sure that when they say a scene at a circus is cleared, they've include humans, lions, tigers, and bears, too. (Greg's handwriting)**

**357. Asking a CSI who hates clowns to interview a tent full of clowns leads to an inevitable brawl. (Nick's handwriting)**

* * *

Grissom turned back to them. "Please, guys, tell me what happened. Warrick, what happened with the strong man?"

Warrick looked sidelong at him with a look that could kill. "He didn't like being interviewed," Warrick snarled between his teeth.

"I gathered that. What happened?"

"I was just talking to the guy. I wasn't accusing him of anything. I was trying to see if he had seen who killed the ringmaster. Suddenly he goes ape shit on me! The two officers with me, they tried to stop him, but there's a _reason_ he's called the strong man. So he goes after me next. I tripped over… I don't know what it was – some circus thing, and starts wailing on me. Then the owner comes in and tranqs him. He says, as if I was supposed to know, 'You can't question John without me or his wife here. What were you thinking?' If my knee wasn't twisted, I would have started wailing on him!"

"Greg?"

"They told me the tent was clear."

"They who?"

"The retarded officers that said they'd cleared it. What they clear it with? Febreeze?"

Grissom cleared his throat, trying not to smile at Greg's unintentional joke. "What was in the tent?"

"A lion, a tiger, and a bear."

"Oh my," Grissom said.

All three men turned a death stares on Grissom and he immediately realized the accidental joke he'd made. "I'm sorry. That wasn't a joke, Greg, just a comment. These animals weren't caged?"

Greg twisted his leg toward Grissom. "Does it _look_ like they were caged?" He motioned at his bandaged arm. "Twenty two stitches in my arm. Another sixty in my leg. Does _that_ look caged to you?"

"No. Are you going to be okay?"

"I had to have a rabies shot, Grissom! It hurt as bad as getting attacked by a lion, tiger and bear. I'm lucky I'm not dead!"

"Yes, you are. Nick, what happened with the clowns?"

"You ever try interviewing a room full of clowns?"

Grissom again had to resist smiling at the unintentional joke. "Not professional clowns, no. It didn't go so well?"

"In the first five minutes I was squirted with water flowers, zapped with one of those hand buzzers, and this one thought it was a hoot to keep hitting me with a foam bat. I tried really hard to keep my cool, Grissom, but I hate clowns. You have no idea how much I hate clowns. And the more they dodged the questions or tried to make jokes… And then that one hit me for the last damn time. I ripped it out of his hand and told him to back off. This only egged on the clowns. And pretty soon, we were in a fight – me, the clowns, and five officers. I. Hate. Clowns."

Grissom looked down as his eyes started to water. Nick's story brought up very vivid images and it was like watching the clowns perform in the circus. Grissom closed his eyes.

"That's why we quit!" Greg snapped.

That shook Grissom's rising humor. He looked at the three beaten, bruised, and wounded pride men. Grissom didn't want them to feel they had to quit over this. It was simply a misunderstanding all around. Yet, he didn't know what to say to convince them that they should stay. Grissom looked up at the wall. He suddenly had an idea. He looked for the chalk and spotted it sitting on the table between Greg and Warrick. Grissom approached with caution, feeling their angry glares on him like radiant heat from a space heater. He picked up the chair, then grabbed a chair and walked to the wall. Grissom stepped up on it and added the next rule.

* * *

**358. You are not allowed to tell the press or civilians we have a 7 year supply of CSI stored in tin cans back at the bunker, and that they taste good with Szechwan sauce.**

* * *

Grissom paused, glancing over his shoulder. They were watching. Good. He had their attention. Grissom slowly added the next rule:

* * *

**359. Nor may you tell them lab rats taste a lot like pork.**

* * *

"I never said we had a seven year supply of CSI," Greg argued. "I said Spam. That reported wrote it wrong."

"And we didn't say that about lab rats. That was Jared on days."

Grissom didn't argue, he just added the next rule:

* * *

**360. If your CSI partner offers to let you go into a building or room first, refuse.**

* * *

There was a soft chuckle from the three.

"Nicky!" Warrick poked.

"Hey, you said you were fearless."

"What happened?" Greg asked.

"He said this building we were going to was alleged to have ghosts in it. We followed the trail to the basement stairs and he tells me to go in first. I thought he was being chicken. He _knew_ that there were bats in that basement. We woke them up and they weren't happy."

Greg chuckled.

Grissom waited until he was sure they were done talking and added the next one:

* * *

**361. Load the gun, cock the gun, THEN shoot.**

* * *

"Ah come one Grissom!" Warrick told him. "I don't do that?"

Grissom looked over his shoulder with raised eyebrows.

"Okay, so once in a while I'm a little tired and forget certain things."

"Lucky for you've got Irish luck or something," Nick said.

"What does that mean?"

"Because you forget that once in a while most of the time."

"Only when I'm tired!"

"Sleep. Sleep is key," Greg told him.

Warrick looked up at him. "Ya think?"

Greg grinned. "Nothing you wouldn't have told me if I was arguing that."

While they were debating the point, Grissom wrote the next rule:

* * *

**362. So that victims don't suggest to their attorney that the crime scene is being processed by 'incompetent idiots of questionable morals,' avoid phone ringtones from questionable songs, such as: 'Break Stuff,' 'The Bad Touch,' 'Get Naked,' 'Closer,' 'Tonight I Fell Asleep at the Wheel,' 'Stupid Girl,' 'Mother,' 'Firestarter,' 'The Roof Is On Fire,' 'My name is Mud,' 'The Beautiful People,' 'The City Sleeps,' or 'Wynona's Big Brown Beaver.'**

* * *

"Wynona's Big Brown Beaver," Nick laughed. "Greggo's ring tone for his girl."

"What are you laughing at him for?" Warrick asked. "You have 'Bad Touch' whenever you've got a girlfriend. Hey, why don't I know most of these songs?"

"Because you don't listen to rock or hard rock or metal or punk," Greg answered.

"So for the grand prize of nothing, can you tell us why the other songs are on that list?"

Greg smiled. "No."

Grissom turned to him, waiting for him to explain. Because he knew Greg, with his strange collection of trivia locked away in his head, could probably answer that question.

"Okay. I can," Greg admitted. "NIN's 'Closer' is right up there with 'Bad Touch' and 'Wynona's Big Brown Beaver,' and talks about sex. Lots and lots of sex. 'Tonight I Fell Asleep at the Wheel,' was the Bare Naked Lady's take on a guy that fell asleep at the wheel, dies, and the last thought is his girl or someone like that. 'Stupid Girl' is pretty self-explanatory. 'Mother' talks about this real scary dude that you should keep your kids away from – and some might interpret as a pedophile song. I'm not if it is or isn't. 'Firestarter' has some language, isn't really all that bad, but I can see how someone would twist it into something it's not. 'The City Sleeps**' **are about a pyromaniac and his obsession with fire. 'The Roof is on Fire' is about this teenage outcast kid and it's the lyrics that did that one in, huh Grissom?" Greg paused a second, but Grissom didn't answer so he went on. "The song 'My name is Mud' is about a guy that kills this rich guy for his digs and the decomposing corpse is still in the house, and now he has to bury him. 'Beautiful People,' is Marilyn Manson and for some stupid reason the world thinks he's bad news – most of those people haven't spent a day reading Danzig's lyrics so those people just don't have a clue."

He stopped talking, sipping his beer. When no one talked he looked at their stairs.

"You know far too much about these songs, Greg," Grissom told him.

Greg smiled. "Glad I could be of help."

"In a scary way you know too much about those songs," Nick added. "Do you spend your days off studying song lyrics on the Internet?"

"No. They just… I dunno. I just get them. They're just poetry, you know? If you can understand poetry, lyrics aren't that hard."

"You read poetry?" Warrick asked.

Greg drank his beer instead of answering.

"And I supposed you've had these songs as ring tones at one time or another?"

"No. Just Wynona's and Firestarter. I don't know why the others are there."

There was a pause. Grissom waited to see if they knew who had made him decide to add this rule.

"Catherine," the three said at once.

"Lindsey thinks it's funny to change her ring tones when she's sleeping," Grissom told them, and then turned back to the wall adding the next rule:

* * *

**363. When dealing with survivalists, avoid the following topics: federal government, national politics, military, foreign politics, foreign policies, foreign governments, foreign anything, homeland security, gun laws, the constitution, amendments to the constitution, the legal system, local laws, local politics, local public figures such as the mayor and chief of police, anything to do with gambling or the strip, the media, censorship… A full ten-page list is available in Ecklie or Grissom's office, and is posted on the break room bulletin board.**

* * *

"Mister Crankshaft," the three said together.

"Man, that guy was one cranky buzzard!" Nick said. "I thought we'd never get him shut down."

Grissom smiled, turning to them to listen while they reminisced about the cranky hermit on Angel Mountain.

"You'd'a thought we were asking to steal his truck when we asked to search his property for that body," Warrick said.

"Did you see how his veins popped out on his forehead when Nick told him the police chief and mayor would appreciate his cooperation?"

"Thought his head was going to pop off his neck and start spinning," Warrick added.

"With steam," Nick laughed.

"Oh, and then, after we get him calmed down and talking normal, almost get him ready to allow us on the property, her comes Catherine. She thinks it's a good idea to tell him about a senior club in town and BAM! He was gone."

Grissom turned, adding rule three sixty-four while they continued talking:

* * *

**364. When dealing with a recluse, avoid suggesting how integrating with society might help them. (**_**See rule 363.**_**)**

* * *

"Lucky for her she knows how to work people down," Warrick said. "He did not like you Nick."

"I was a little too hick for him, I think."

"Little does he know," Warrick defensively said. "Stupid hermit."

"So which is worse? A survivalist recluse hermit or a gang member with a Ph.D.?" Greg asked.

"Gang member with a Ph.D.," Nick and Warrick answered.

Grissom added:

* * *

**365. A gang member with a college degree is the worst kind of scary.**

* * *

"How exactly does one go from gangs, to a Ph.D. and back to gangs and drugs?"

"Money," Nick said. "It's always about the money. Not much money in mathematics."

"Yeah, but the dude had a Ph.D. And he knew the legal system like the back of his hand. He could'a done something so much better that wouldn't have landed his sorry ass in jail."

"The path of least resistance, huh Grissom?" Nick asked. He didn't wait for an answer. "He chose the easy way out."

"Talk about a waste."

The three nodded, sipping their beers.

Deciding that topic had ended, Grissom added:

* * *

**366. If, after revealing your theory to a victim or witness, they say something like, "and is that for the record?" hold them until their newspaper lawyer appears to get them out.**

* * *

"I hate Taylor Moore," Warrick venomously snarled.

"We all hate Taylor Moore, Warrick," Greg said. "That stupid journalist misquoted me about the tins of Spam, then posed as a witness to get the inside scoop of that case from Nick."

Nick laughed. "The devil wears Gucci!"

The men laughed, raising their beers. "Here! Here!"

Grissom climbed off the chair.

"Aw come on, Grissom. You're done?" Warrick asked.

"I'm afraid so." Grissom returned the chair and handed the chalk back to Greg. He walked over to the door, opening it. "I'll see you three tonight, okay?"

"See you tonight," Nick said.

Warrick nodded and Greg waved. Grissom slipped out of the room, hearing the three began ranting about the reporter Taylor Moore that they hated so much. It made him smile. The room hadn't lost its ability to soothe even the worst tempers.


	24. Don't Blow the Blow

4) Don't Blow the Blow

Grissom thought of better ways to start his shift. Ways that didn't include sitting in Ecklie's neat and tidy office, where everything was arranged precisely. He wasn't really listening to Ecklie drone on about budget details. Grissom hated reviewing the budget because it was time consuming and there was evidence waiting for him in the lab.

The men looked up when the door opened and they watched Catherine slink in. Right away Grissom knew was something very wrong. Catherine was not a slinker. She just came right out and said whatever was bothering her.

"Grissom, we need to talk?"

"We're reviewing the budget," Ecklie answered for him. "Can't it wait?"

"No, Conrad, it _can't_. Something's happened, Grissom. Not real—"

The door was thrown open and Nick burst in. Grissom was acutely aware something was not right with Nick. He wore a crazy grin like he knew some secret that had made him go insane. He was so hyper that if it were physically possible, he would have begun ricocheting around the room. His eyes were so bloodshot that he looked eerily like a demon who had just crawled up from hell.

"GRISSOM!" Nick cried, charging forward to swallow him in a tight hug. "I love you man! I love you!"

Grissom looked over Nick's shoulder Catherine. She had her eyes closed and was scrubbing her fingers against her forehead.

"What's wrong with Nick?" Grissom asked.

The door opened again and Greg came in, starting to ask her, "You wanted to see—"

"CONRAD!" Nick cried, releasing Grissom and walking around to Ecklie.

Any other time Grissom might be amused to watch Ecklie spring from his chair and quickly put it between him and Nick.

"I love you man!" Nick said, holding his arms open for a hug.

"Catherine? What the hell is wrong with Stokes?" Ecklie demanded.

"Nothing's wrong with me!" Nick answered. "I feel great! I've never felt so great in my life! Hey, you know what we should all do? We should all go to the top of the Needle and drop water balloons. Wouldn't that be awesome!?"

"He's lost his mind," Greg commented, staring bug-eyed as his friend and co-worker.

"Not exactly. We had a little bit of an accident at the crime scene," Catherine calmly told them.

"With you people there's no such thing as _little_ accidents."

"Well, Conrad, it was. It was at the bakery the police raided tonight. They couldn't find the drugs, just the bags. So we started testing surfaces and found drugs all over the place! Especially where there was flour. He tested a few cakes and—"

"Cake!" Nick cried, coming around toward Catherine. "I want cake! Chocolate cake, with chocolate frosting, and those little chocolate sprinkles, and—"

"Shut up, Nick!" Catherine told him.

"But I—"

"Greg, take him across the hall to the lab. Start working on the bullets from last night's shooting."

"He can't touch evidence," Grissom told her.

"He can't hurt bullets, Grissom."

Grissom started to tell her no again.

"Bullets. Now," Ecklie ordered Greg.

"I don't want to eat bullets. I want _cake_!" Nick told Ecklie.

"Sanders, remove him _now_."

Greg grabbed Nick's arm. "Come on, Nick. Let's go look at some bullets."

Nick swept Greg into a bear hug. "I LOVE YOU MAN!"

Greg made a face. "I love ya too. Let me go."

Nick didn't so Greg wiggled free. He stepped back, grabbing Nick's arm before he could wrap it around him again.

In an melodramatic, excited voice, Greg asked, "Hey, Nicky, would you like to see something really cool?"

"YEAH!"

"Come on! Let's go look at striations!"

"RIGHT ON!"

Greg led him out of the office and a moment of silence followed.

"And?" Grissom asked Catherine. "How did he get like this?"

"The police thought they cleared the place, but there was one pusher was hiding in a closet. I opened it and he sprung out, making a break for the door. Nick ran after him. At the door there was this box fan still turned on. The suspect grabbed it and threw it at Nick. The fan landed on a pile of cocaine laced flour and blew it in his face. So… He got it in his mouth, nose, eyes… He's going to be going for at least an hour, maybe two."

"He can't stay in the lab," Grissom said. "Even if it's just bullets. And when he crashes…"

"It's going to be hard. I know. That's why I brought him back here. I can't leave him at home alone. Nick's never done drugs, to my knowledge. I don't know what to do with him."

Grissom looked down, trying to decide. They weren't busy, but they were backed up. He needed every able body he had here.

"Send him down to The Wall," Ecklie said. "Have the Wall Crew baby-sit him and switch them every two hours. That should help him and keep work moving tonight. Will that work, Gil?"

Grissom slowly looked up at him. Ecklie wasn't mad? He wasn't going to threaten splitting up the team over this again? What had _Ecklie_ taken before work?

"Yes," Grissom asked.

"Probably better get a bucket from the janitor closet for when he starts vomiting." Ecklie pulled out his wallet, pulling out several singles. He held them out to Catherine. "Whoever you send down with him, have them get some bottles of water before they go. It'll make it worse if he gets dehydrated."

Catherine approached, openly leery of his kindness. She took the bills.

"I will."

"Start with Greg," Grissom told her. "He seems to be able to get Nick to listen."

She nodded, leaving. Grissom watched Ecklie sit back down and pick up the spreadsheet he had been talking about.

"You're not going to report this?" Grissom asked. He was curious about Ecklie's motives. He wanted to know what this was going to cost him or Nick.

Ecklie didn't answer right away. Maybe he thought Grissom would just let it go. Then he started talking.

"I'd been a level two CSI for eight months when I was assigned to drug bust like Catherine and Nick's. They were producing heroine in this house and myself and the CSI I was working with were bagging the bags. He picked up one with a torn corner when someone called him. He turned, throwing it everywhere, including my face. My supervisor stuck me in the tank until the high wore off."

"The police chief?" Grissom asked.

Conrad nodded.

"I never knew that happened to you, Conrad. Where was I?"

"I don't know." Ecklie looked up at Grissom. "Stokes is a good CSI. He doesn't deserve to get stuck in the tank for doing his job. But, Gil, you know I'll have to demand he be drug tested every week for a while."

"How long?"

"Four months, minimum."

"That's fair. He won't think so, but I do."

"We were on supplies, weren't we?"

"Yes." Grissom focused on the budget. Ecklie's random act of kindness and opening talking about his past was actually a refreshing change. So there were layers to Conrad Ecklie… Who knew?

#

At the end of the shift, without even talking to each other, the Wall Crew headed for The Wall. They had taken turns to watch Nick through the night. As predicted, once the initial euphoria of the high wore off, he crashed hard. Between being angry at himself and snarky with his babysitters, he couldn't stop vomiting.

Grissom arrived first. Nick was standing on a chair adding a rule to the wall. He glanced at Grissom as he came in. Grissom glanced at Wendy. She was sitting on the table, watching Nick, and exchanged a smile with Grissom. Grissom read the new rule as Nick wrote it:

* * *

**367. Sniffing "white flour" in a drug house is bad.**

* * *

"That's a good rule, Nicky. How are you feeling?"

"Like I've been thrown from a train," Nick answered.

Catherine and Greg slipped into the room.

"I can't say I know what that feels like," Grissom said with a smile. "But I'm sorry anyway."

Nick stepped off the chair, sitting down in it. He put his head in his hands, bracing his elbows on his knees. Catherine walked over, laying her hand on his head.

"I was so stupid!" Nick growled.

She smiled, ruffling his hair. "Naw. I would have chased him, but he knocked me on my butt. It happened. We move on."

Nick sat back and closed his eyes. "My head is killing me."

"Do you want to hear stories about last night?" Greg paused. "Do you even remember last night?"

"I remember some things. I think I ate someone's cake."

"That was mine," Hodges said as he came in.

"Sorry, man."

"That's okay. I have more at home. How are you?"

"I've felt better."

The rest of the crew filtered in.

"A new rule," Robbins said. "Great. Now I can add mine."

Nick got up, handing him the chalk. He walked over to the table and sat down next to Wendy. She didn't say anything when he laid his head on her shoulder and watched the rest of the Crew.

Robbins added:

* * *

**368. When viewing a corpse of the same name, songs of the same name will not be permitted, eve if you are allegedly practicing for your band's gig or choir recital. Recent examples include, but are not limited to: "Mister Lee," "Janie's Gotta Gun," "Sarah," "Maria," "Billy Jean," "Come On Eileen," "Annie-dog," "Oh Sheila," "Daniel," any and all remixes of "Elanor Rigby," "Jenny Says," "Joanna," "Joey," "Joleen," "Ride On Josephine," "Last Dance with Mary Jane," "Layla," "Lucille," "Major Tom," "Mary," "Mickey," "Mr. Jones," "Mr. Wendell," "Mustang Sally," "My Michelle," "Lola," "Oh Sherry," "Psycho Joe," "Sweet Virginia," "Tommy The Cat," "Veronica," and "Wayne's World." **

* * *

"Oh come on!" Greg cried. "Everyone likes to have a song with their name sung to them."

"Thank God there are no songs with Greg in them," Warrick jabbed. "We'd never heard the end of it, even if we added it to the wall. By the way, Greg, you can't sing to save your life."

Greg turned to him. "You never said anything before."

"I was hoping you'd go mute."

"We were all hoping you'd go mute," Ecklie added.

Nick sat up, reclining against the wall.

"Thanks. I feel so loved," Greg told them.

Catherine put her arm around his shoulders, telling him, "Greggo, we love you. You're adorable. We just hate your singing. Stop it."

He smiled, unleashing contagious laughter. Greg held his hand out for the chalk and added under Robbins:

* * *

**369. Every human named Lee does not have the last name Adama.**

* * *

Then he turned and pointed at David. "Alright?"

"What?"

"Every single man named Lee you have stuck a sticky note with the last name Adama on every file."

"Not every man."

"Every man," Warrick and Nick said.

"Who's Lee Adama?" Grissom asked.

The CSI and lab rats looked at him.

"I don't know who Lee Adama is," Catherine admitted.

"Me neither," Ecklie and Robbins said at the same time.

"You need to get cable, guys," Greg said as he stepped down. "Something with the Sci-Fi channel."

"Wait," Robbins began, "This is a show you're talking about, right?"

"Yes," they answered.

"And this show… Does it have things called Cylon's on it?"

"Yes," they answered.

Robbins took the chalk from Greg and wrote on the wall:

* * *

**370. No corpse is a Cylon. He or she does not need to be taken from the crime scene to prevent downloading into another 'toaster.'**

* * *

"Suddenly things are so much clearer," Catherine said. "Thank you, Doc."

"But they could be," Henry protested. "And since everyone thinks Balthzar's Cylon test doesn't work – but it does – the corpse very well could be."

"You watch far too much television, son," Ecklie told him.

"No. Not really. I record it on my DVR."

Everyone laughed, but he was confused. "What?"

"You need to get some sleep, Henry. Lots of it," Warrick told him.

"What? What did I say?"

Grissom held his hand out for the chalk, adding:

* * *

**371. We do not employ the help of anyone claiming to speak to, see, sense, perceive, or be in contact with, ghosts, spirits, aliens, third world country leaders, Luke Skywalker, all deities, Borg, Gunthar Heindriksen, Pandora, or Joan of Arc.**

* * *

When he turned, Greg, Nick and Warrick were pointing at one another.

"He did it," the three told him.

"You all did it."

"Nuh-uh!" Greg protested. "Nick did it."

"No way, man. It was Warrick."

"You're both wrong. It was both of them, Grissom."

"I don't even know who Gunthar Heindriksen is. Why would I listen to someone who listened to him?" Nick asked.

"He's Pinky's alter ego," Greg told him.

Nick laughed. "And since you knew that, you've just taken the fall through association."

The room laughed with him. Greg shook his head. He held his hands out, bobbing them, signaling for silence. When they finally calmed down he told the group: "Alright. Alright… If that's the way you want to be, Nick, what comes around, goes around."

Greg took the chalk from Grissom, stepping onto a chair to add his rule high up on the wall.

"Wait. What are you going to write?" Nick asked.

"You know the rules, Nick. You can't stop a rule from being written."

Greg looked slyly at him, and then continued adding:

* * *

**372. When parking at a crime scene two hours from Las Vegas in the middle of August be sure to check for three things: cell phone or radio service, the vehicle is not aimed at other vehicles that are near the edge of a cliff, and the emergency brake has been engaged. Failure to do so will result in banishment from all social LVPD functions for your own safety.**

* * *

He turned, smiling as everyone laughed.

"I am telling you people the emergency break _was_ engaged!" Nick argued.

"The sad thing is, Nick, we'll never know for sure," Ecklie told him, "because you managed to destroy it and three patrol cars."

"I didn't think cars exploded when they hit the bottom of a cliff," Henry said.

"They wouldn't have. Except one of the police cruisers had the ether from the meth lab Nick had come to investigate," Grissom told him.

Henry turned to Nick. "You always seem to do the stupid stuff. You and Greg."

"What?" Greg asked as Nick asked, "_We_ do the stupid stuff?"

Greg added:

* * *

**373. We do not tell out of town visitors that 'Nessie' lives in Lake Mead.**

* * *

Everyone looked at Henry when Greg turned to stare at him.

"They… Uhm…" Henry rolled his lips in, trying to think of a really good way out of this.

"They, uhm, what?" Catherine asked. "I haven't heard this story. Is it any good?"

"No." Henry begged. "We don't have to tell it."

"Nick and I were out front on a break and Henry came out to go over some trace results," Greg began. "The three of us are talking and this couple walks up. They had German accents and were looking for the Stardust. Henry gets to talking to them about the local attractions, and said we had a Nessie living in Lake Mead. Turns out, these two are Nessie freaks. Totally into the whole myth and they, of course, have never heard of Nessie of Lake Mead—"

"Because there isn't one," Catherine added, looking at Henry.

He blushed three shades of red.

"Then he tells them the place he supposedly saw Nessie and away they went. In search of Nessie."

"Henry, you surprise me." Ecklie told him. "And not in good ways."

"Now hold on one minute!" Henry told him. "I'm not the one that had a surveillance camera taken on a joy ride."

Ecklie turned a hard stare on Warrick.

"For the love of Pete! It was an _accident_!" Warrick cried out.

Ecklie held his hand out for the chalk and added:

* * *

**374. I will not set up the surveillance cam so that it looks like a surveillance cam and a lure for bored teenagers on a Saturday night.**

* * *

He turned to Warrick. "It was supposed to be hidden by the bushes."

"It was! The kid went over to the bushes to urinate. How was I supposed to predict that?"

"Maybe by camouflaging the box?" Catherine asked.

Warrick sat on the edge of the table. "I make one small mistake, and the entire crew is out for my blood."

"I'm not out for your blood," Gina said, putting her arm around him.

"Me neither," Wendy added.

Warrick grinned smugly at the others. "The Warrick mojo still works."

"I don't want to know anything about your mojo," Catherine told him.

"I am not putting my arm around you," Ecklie told him. "Not even dead. Sorry. Not happening."

"Yeah, I'm out on that too," Brass said.

"Unfortunately, I'd have to if you were dead," David told him. "So try not to get dismembered. That's more Warrick than I could stand."

They laughed.

"Speaking of things that shouldn't be touched." Wendy slid off the table said as she walked toward Ecklie with her hand held out.

He drew back. "I don't think so!"

She smacked his arm. "Give me the chalk, Conrad!"

He laughed, tossing it to her. She caught it and wrote:

* * *

**375. Wendy's slides, Wendy touches. Wendy's slide, you touch, come away with missing digits.**

* * *

With a smug smile, she turned and pointed right at Hodges. "Got that?"

"What?"

"Do not touch my slides, Hodges."

"I never touched your stinking slides!"

"You put them on the very top shelf where I couldn't see them and tried to convince me that Warrick took them."

"He did!"

Warrick smirked, looking at the wall. Wendy's eyes narrowed. She walked up to him and stared him down when he smiled. He held his arms open.

"Warrick mojo!"

"Bite me!" she told him with a smile, then spun around. "Who's next?"

"I am," Ecklie told her, taking the chalk. He moved to a large spot of clear wall and began writing:

* * *

**376. The company newsletter 'For Sale' section is not to be used for gag ads. Such as: "One parachute, mint condition, used once, never opened, small red stain on corner," "Vintage whine for sale. See Hodges," "Dis Co. platters, sell singles or by the dozen, well grooved, perfect for all occasions," "One helmet, slightly dented, some scuff marks, head makes perfect compliment," "Used boot. Genuine leather. Toe pads included. See Captain Sock or Under Sheriff Boot," or "Wanted. Tread. Last seen under microscope." Suggested and inspired by love-lulu**

* * *

"But those are good for sale ads!" Gina argued.

"And everything in there is real cheap. Virtually free."

"Virtually is the problem, I think," Grissom added.

"If it's virtually free, that's got to be virtually good," Archie said.

"Except the whine part," Gina added. "It's kind of bitter. Doesn't go well with anything."

"I do to!" Hodges defensively argued. "I was standing here silent, behaving, how did I suddenly end up the target?"

"Because we love you, Hodges," Nick told him. "And… We want you to feel you're _special_."

Hodges shoved him away and Nick started laughing so hard he had to sit down.

"Lay off the pastries, freak!" Hodges told him.

Gina held her hand out for the chalk and Ecklie handed it over. She added:

* * *

**377. Gina is the goddess of the stapler. All who fail to return the goddess' divine symbol of power will find their lunch missing.**

* * *

She turned, an eyebrow lifted, tempting any of them to argue with her. The group looked anywhere but at her – they had all been guilty of accidentally permanently borrowing her stapler. When she came looking for it, it was like watching a raccoon. She would snatch it away from them, and then walk away scolding them until she was out of sight.

"Sorry," Greg said, starting off a wave of following, "Sorry," and "I'm sorry, too."

"And right you all should be! You need a stapler, requisition it. I'm sure Ecklie can afford staplers."

"But yours is really pretty," Wendy said.

"Yeah. It's red and shiny," Henry added.

Greg nodded. "And it reminds us of certain things."

"Like TPS reports," Archie said. "Every TPS report must have the new cover."

"And the radio is on at a reasonable volume,"

"And a coffee mug must be carried at all time," Wendy added.

"While asking someone if they've received the memo," Archie pointed out.

"Whatever you three are talking about, stop it!" Grissom ordered. "We don't' know what it is, we can't laugh."

They stared at him. A few blinked a couple times.

"Wow. That's the most logical illogical reason to stop talking I've heard in some time, Grissom," Gina told him.

"Thank you. I think. May I?" He held his hand out. She dropped it in his hand and he added:

* * *

**378. Vintage porno is still porno.**

* * *

"Now hold on!" Archie complained. "Vintage porn is pretty much clothed people and… weird. There's nothing attractive about it."

"The rule still stands."

"But it's historical," Greg added.

"The rule still stands."

"I think maybe we should get Nick home," Wendy said.

They turned. He had fallen asleep with his head on Wendy's shoulder again. Catherine reached across the table, shaking his arm. He woke up, staring at her.

"Ready to go home?"

He nodded.

"I want you to stay at my place today," Grissom said. "Just to be safe. Come on."

Nick slide off the table, trailing behind him. The room cleared leaving Ecklie and Catherine. She sat down on the table, letting her head hang to stretch her neck. Ecklie sat down on the edge with her, clasping his hands in his lap. He stared at the list.

"Catherine?"

"Yeah?"

"Was I ever a good CSI?"

She looked up at him, surprised by the question. "That's a loaded question if I've ever heard one."

"Come on, Catherine. Be honest."

She smiled. "You had your moments."

"But not like your team. Not like Grissom."

She shrugged. "Some people are scientists, some people are supervisors. A few are in between. You do supervisor better."

"And Grissom?"

"More on the scientist side. Hands down."

"And you?"

She hesitated. "I won't judge myself. I have to look myself in the mirror when I get up in five hours."

He smiled. "That's a very tactful answer. See you tonight, Catherine."

Ecklie slid off the table and left. Catherine listened to his footsteps until she couldn't hear them anymore, and then looked down at the chalk forgotten on the table. She picked it up, rolling it between her fingers, and then looked up at the wall.

With a tired sigh and slight smile, she told the wall, "What would I do without my boys?"

Catherine sat the chalk down on the table and left, shutting off the light and closing the door behind her.


	25. Elelator Go Up!

25) Elelator Go Up...

Henry held his eyes closed while his little brother carefully cleaned the gash across his eyes. He held an icepack to his other eye, hoping it would keep it from swelling shut. So far, it didn't seem to be working.

"I thought I'd find you two down here," he heard Grissom said.

"Hi Grissom," Jason said.

"Good morning," Grissom answered.

Henry looked up, watching his supervisor cross the room and sit down in a chair nearby. Henry had managed to ferret his little brother away from the chaos upstairs before Ecklie or the Under Sheriff showed up.

"Who was left standing?" Henry asked.

Grissom chuckled. "Let's see... After the two managed to destroy the lab with the explosion, then had a screaming match, I sent Catherine and Greg home before I was tempted to suspend them both. So, I guess neither of them faired this disaster very well."

"What exactly happened? All I knew was suddenly I was on the floor and all cut up."

"Greg put something on the burner that he wasn't supposed to, but he swears Catherine told him to. She's so tired she couldn't really remember, but she said she did."

"I have never seen those two get into a fight like that before."

"Take little sleep, a really bad case, and you just have to add a he said, she said to make a fight."

Henry winced when Jason pressed a little too hard.

"Easy there, buddy."

"Thank you for getting Jason out of there. They didn't need to know he comes in on weekends with you."

"Welcome."

"Hey, Henry," Nick said as he, and Warrick, came in. "How'd you two fair?"

"NICK! WARRICK!" Jason cried, jumping up and running to them.

"JASONATOR!" Nick cried back, swooping him up over his head.

Jason laughed, squirming when Nick started tickling him. He tossed him over to Warrick, who slung him over his shoulder and found his ticklish spot again.

"STOP IT!" Jason laughed, swatting Warrick's back.

"Stop it? Stop what?" Warrick asked.

Jason tried to pull away but instead Warrick pulled him back over his shoulder, dropping him into his arms.

"I'm doing better than Catherine and Greg's evidence."

Nick laughed.

Grissom looked up at the rules. "Anything new?"

The men hadn't even looked at the rules since they'd come in.

"We were on three hundred and seventy-eight," Henry told him.

"So... Three hundred and seventy-nine..." Warrick said, looking for it.

* * *

**379. "The fizziness amuses me," is not an acceptable excuse to add more than the required three drops of hydrochloric acid to a rock to test for calcite.**

* * *

The three looked down at Henry, who smiled sheepishly.

"But it's really cool," Henry told them.

"Who caught you?" Grissom asked.

Henry looked away.

"Who?"

"Brass."

"Brass caught you? And he told you not to do that?"

"Not exactly."

"Brass knows something about geology?"

"Not exactly. He asked me what I was doing. I told him, then I showed him, then I showed him four more times. He looks at me and asks, 'So this is acid you're putting on this rock that's evidence, right?' I told him yes. He asks, 'And every time you put this acid on the rock, doesn't this ruin the evidence?'"

"And you said?"

"I didn't. I put the acid down, washed off the rock, put it down, and went to do something else."

The three laughed.

"And knowing Brass that was probably the smartest answer you could have given that question," Nick told him.

"Who put that one up there?" Grissom demanded.

* * *

**380. Beware of the "Grissom Junk Food" detector.**

* * *

Nick and Warrick laughed heartedly.

"Which one?" Jason asked.

"Three hundred and eighty."

Jason turned, reading it. He looked up at Grissom. "Do you like junk food?"

"No."

"And you don't like it when we have it."

"Not in the labs, but I don't seek it out."

"You do if you find crumbs in the lab," Nick told him.

"That's because it's not allowed in the lab."

Nick and Warrick laughed.

"Who put that up there? I don't recognize the writing."

"Whoever put it up there, didn't want it to be recognized," Henry said. "There are hesitation spots. The lines are too accurate."

"And they retraced their previous strokes," Jason added.

The child's observation sobered made Nick, Warrick, and Grissom smile.

"I think our CSI are getting younger," Nick told Grissom.

"He did tell me he wants to apply when he turns thirteen."

"He can do that?"

"Yes. I just can't put him the field until he's eighteen."

"You can't put him in the field until he's ninety by law of brother," Henry told him.

Grissom looked back at him. "We'll see."

The two looked down at Jason when he giggled. He was watching them with a huge smile.

"What's so funny, clown?" Henry asked him.

Jason turned back to his drawing.

* * *

**381. Even more items hereby banned from being brought into any crime scene: duck bills, large foam fingers, poker dealer visors converted to half face masks, drink pitcher hats, and various instruments stuck in various head orifices. Spoons worn on the nose, but not in the nose, are still allowed. (Catherine's handwriting)**

* * *

"Catherine just won't let us have fun," Nick said, shaking his head. "Always cramping our style."

"If she didn't, I would. Why would she allow spoons, I wonder?"

Nick and Warrick just smiled.

"Do I want to know?"

"Not really," Warrick answered.

"Now I really want to know."

The two laughed. Nick pointed at the wall. "Hey, Greg learned something that day!"

* * *

**382. Running away from a crime scene screaming in terror is only permissible if you are in eminent danger and not being pursued by a geriatric patient on a motorized wheelchair. (Greg's handwriting)**

* * *

"What day?" Henry asked.

"We had a death at a retirement home that the paramedics said looked suspicious," Warrick began telling. "So I took Greggo with me and this really cranky old man in a motorized wheelchair kept smacking Greg with his cane when he wouldn't answer his questions. So he turned around and ripped the cane away from him. The man started screaming and threatening to sue and chased him off down the hall. That was the quietest crime scene I'd had in a while. Well... Except when Greg would run by and tell me to stop the guy."

The three were laughing so hard they were tearing up by the time Warrick finished.

"And you just left him?" Nick said.

"He was keeping the guy busy while I processed the scene. And he'd complained he hadn't gotten his run in that evening, so, you know, it worked out in the end."

"I'm sure he didn't see that way," Grissom said.

"Naw. He was all cranky with me after that. Can't understand why."

"Cuz you were picking on him and he didn't like it," Jason said.

"Huh... Maybe so, Jas."

"And is this another Greg moment?" Grissom asked.

* * *

**383. "My elelator, not your elelator. I push da button, no you push da button," and 'Elelator go UP!' and 'Elelator go doooown da hole!" does not need to be said on every elevator ride in every building in Las Vegas!**

* * *

"He's never done that to you?" Nick asked.

"No."

"Never?" Warrick asked.

"No."

"Not even once?" Henry asked.

"No."

"You are lucky," Nick told him. "That is enough to make me want to hurt him, then tell God he died of natural causes."

Grissom chuckled. "I think Doctor Robbins would be able to rebut that for God."

"Yeah, but I don't care about convincing Doctor Robbins. I just have to convince God."

"Some might call that blasphemy."

"Some have never had to spend seven calls in hotels having to listen to that shit!"

Grissom hesitated, and then nodded. "This is true."

"That's Brass for the next two. Think he's trying to tell us something?"

* * *

**384. Murphy's Laws negate any and all local, state, federal, and natural laws.**

**385. Mother Nature does not want to be my friend and I should not taunt her during a lightening storm. (Brass' handwriting)**

* * *

Warrick chuckled. "Well, lightening did hit his car three times last week"

"And they say lightening doesn't hit the same place twice," Nick said.

"That's not true," Grissom and Jason said together.

"And why isn't it true?" Grissom asked Jason.

"Because when lightening hits an object it excites the particles and causes them to align. This causes the object to be a more receptive conduit for the electricity by creating less resistance from point of strike to ground."

Grissom smiled. "Very good."

"You taught him that?" Nick asked.

"No. Mister Reeves did."

Nick and Warrick looked at each other, then Grissom.

Warrick asked, "Who the hell is Mister Reeves?"

"His science teacher."

Warrick looked down at the child. "Jas... What grade did you get moved up to last month?"

"Eighth."

Warrick looked over at Henry. He was cleaning a cut on his lip.

"Henry, this kid has skipped six grades since he started Mason Howe six months ago!"

"Yeah. I know. They just don't have a challenging curriculum, that's all."

"They're a prepatory school for Yale, Harvard, West Point. That's not challenging enough?"

"The private school I went to was known for Ivy League and John Hopkins graduates. It wasn't challenging for me either. I graduated from twelve grade by the time I was twelve."

"So what do you plan on doing when he graduates high school at age twelve?" Nick asked

"Hire a nanny."

"I don't want a nanny!" Jason said, looking up at him.

"Then pretend to be dumb."

"I don't want to pretend to be dumb!"

"Then deal with the nanny."

"You're mean."

"I'm your brother. I'm allowed to be mean."

Jason glared at him before turning back to his drawing. Henry looked up, finding the three staring at him.

"Oh, don't worry about that. We have those all the time. Next rule is Nick's doing. I heard about that one."

* * *

**386. I will not tell a suspect their house is shaking because of a catastrophic earthquake and this is their last time to repent just to get them to confess, when in fact it is a passing jet causing the shaking.**

* * *

Nick started laughing. He sat down on the edge of the table, shaking his head. "And she believed me. Ya know, Grissom, I cannot be responsible for a murder suspect that's the epitome of blond and stupid. And I don't put those two words in the same sentence lightly, but this woman must have lost brain cells from bleaching her hair too much."

"What did you do?"

"About six months ago, you sent me on that call out at Indian Springs, near the base. Well, this lady apparently hadn't been in the house – which was my first suspicion she hadn't killed her alleged ex-boyfriend – because when the jets started doing touch and goes, she freaked out. So I used it against her. I told her that and she confessed. Oh boy she was mad when she realized I'd made the whole thing up! She tried and tried to convince the DA she was responsible."

"Who'd want to be responsible for a murder?" Warrick asked.

"Did I mention she was stupid? Her so called best friend had her convinced that we'd shoot her on the spot if she didn't take the wrap for the murder."

"Wow!"

"That is a frightening display of gullibility," Grissom admitted.

"And here's Henry. Back to convince tourists that he is something he's not."

* * *

**387. You are not Sasquatch's emissary for Nevada.**

* * *

"Well, I figured I'm the new Nessie spotter, why not be Sasquatch's emissary?"

"We don't have mountains here," Warrick said. "Least not the kind they always go around spotting Big Foot in."

"Yeah, but Big Foot likes to take vacations at Angel Mountain. November through May, usually."

"Henry, one of these days, a tourist is going to clock you, and I'm going to laugh."

"That wouldn't be very nice," Jason said.

"You don't think so?"

Jason looked up at Warrick. "No!"

"Even if he lied?"

"No."

"But he just said you had to stay with a nanny."

"So. I'm not going to hit him for it. Neither should you."

"So there!" Henry told Warrick. "And apparently Warrick and this fake suspect of Nick's should go on a date. Isn't that your handwriting?"

* * *

**388. I will not taunt an emu, llama, ostrich, or other livestock.**

* * *

Warrick looked sidelong at him. "That's it. I'm keeping you away from explosions."

"Thank you."

"Damned emu."

"What about the emu?" Jason asked.

"It bit me on the butt. Stupid bird!"

"You were taunting it," Nick told him.

"I was not taunting it, Nicholas Stokes!" Warrick turned to Grissom, telling him, "I was trying to lure it away from the shelter. And then... Then that stupid llama started spitting at me. So I bail from the pen, and right into the one with an ostrich. Did you know those things are wicked fast?"

"Yes. I did."

"Well, I didn't until now. That thing was determined to get a chunk out of my rear end to."

"So is it safe to assume that you'll let other people clear the scenes now?" Grissom asked.

"If there's an animal involved, heck yeah!

"You know, if you read back a few rules," Grissom pointed out. "I believe Greg already came to that conclusion. I guess you didn't learn from his mistakes."

Warrick glared down at Grissom. "I don't know that I like you right now."

Grissom laughed.

"Did you hear this one about David?"

* * *

**389. Lying to an officer that you're speeding to a crime scene in a LVPD vehicle will inevitably backfire when he goes to the scene to check your story. (David's handwriting)**

* * *

"What did he tell the policeman?" Grissom asked.

"He was in the meat wagon, going home in a hurry, and told the officer he was going to pick up a corpse, and like a dummy, he told the officer the address of a recent call. So the officer went to that call, no David. He gave him a ticket and now he follows him everywhere around town."

"Lying is bad anyway," Jason commented.

"Lying is especially bad when you get caught," Warrick laughed.

"No. Lying is bad," Henry said.

Warrick looked at him and he stared at him with a hard look. Warrick suddenly understood – he didn't want Jason to get the wrong idea about lying.

"Yeah. Lying is bad," Warrick said.

"So is collecting multiple rock samples," Nick commented. "Man, I wish Greg were here. We'd be having all kinds of fun at his expense."

* * *

**390. Collecting rock samples does not mean I should return with every rock in the suspect's yard, the suspect's neighbor's yard, rocks picked up along the way based on a 'pretty' scale, and any random rock found in the parking lot once I return.**

* * *

"I thought we already were. I dunno, Grissom, he did bring you a nice little rock collection."

"Yes, but I only wanted ones that matched the ones we found in the victim's clothes and wounds."

"Yeah. But it was still a nice collection."

"I believe you might be missing the point. You actually made cadets do this?"

* * *

**391. If the hole must be dug, I may not usurp my authority by ordering cadets to do it.**

* * *

"For the rocks you told me to get rid of."

Grissom gave him a level stare. Warrick cracked under it, smiling.

"Naw. It was for soil samples. And yeah, I did. Until the training officer showed up and asked me for the paperwork. Which mysteriously disappeared."

Grissom shook his head. "It's a wonder I even let you three out of the lab."

"You did not just put me in the same category as Hodges there, did you?" Warrick asked.

* * *

**392. "The black hole in the basement has eaten your results," is not a permissible excuse for missing lab results. (Hodges' handwriting)**

* * *

"I meant Greg and Nick and you. Hodges is... Special."

"You can say that again," Nick said.

"Why?" Jason asked, looking up at Grissom.

"He likes me to notice things he does and sometimes causes more trouble than he's worth doing it."

"Oh. So he gets in the way?"

"Sometimes."

"Really, though? A black hole?"

"He said Henry got away with the ghosts."

"That was a year ago! What the heck?" Henry asked.

"I think he was hoping I might forget that part."

"I'm spiking his coffee with lemon juice tomorrow night."

"Ewww!" Nick laughed. "And you use so much that just swallowing it is enough o make you hurl."

Henry smiled.

"He did that to you?" Warrick asked.

"I unplugged all his equipment that you had to crawl into tight spaces to plug in."

"Wow, Nick. You really deserved that spiked coffee."

"And then Wendy did it for that one. People are so mean to me here."

* * *

**393. Results are not to be copied and used for 'Dots and Boxes.' (Wendy's handwriting)**

* * *

"Is that what happened to my trace results?" Grissom asked.

"By that's what happened you mean..." nick trailed off.

"It had lines all over it."

"Really? It did?"

"Nicky."

Nick smirked. "Greg did it."

"I don't think so."

"Hey, be nice to him. He stood up for us."

* * *

**394. We are CSI; this stands for crime scene investigators, not 'crazy super interested,' or 'cranky shifty inbred,' or 'cuddly smiling iguanas,' or 'completely stupid idiot.'**

* * *

"I thought crazy supper interested was good, myself," Henry told them.

"Yes, but that's not what CSI stands for."

"Not in some places of the world, however, I like to imagine that somewhere out there, it does. And cuddly smiling iguanas are, well, cuddly and smiling."

"Iguanas can smile?" Jason asked.

"No. Your brother is being mischievous tonight.

Jason laughed.

* * *

**395. Any CSI or lab tech caught smuggling doughnuts past their supervisor will be reprimanded for lewd behavior. (Ecklie)**

* * *

"So... Do you think Ecklie might like doughnuts a little?" Nick asked.

"He always has one from the box before he leaves, so yeah"

"Who doesn't like doughnuts?" Henry asked.

"I like doughnuts," Jason said.

"But I think Ecklie has an exceptional weakness for them. He always seems to be nicer after you give him a doughnut."

"Maybe it's the sugar. Maybe it does something to the demon within."

"Or maybe he just likes doughnuts," Grissom said.

"You ruined our fun," Nick told him.

Grissom glanced at Jason when he told Nick, "But there are certain things that cannot be kept secret here."

Nick glanced at Jason and nodded. It was always dangerous to talk about Ecklie around Jason. For some reason, he liked Ecklie – Heaven only knew why! – and despite Ecklie trying to shun him or ignore him, he still talked to him.

"Well the lab should be cleared by now," Nick said, standing up. "Better get back to work. You going home tonight?" Nick asked Henry.

"Yes."

"See you tomorrow. Bye Jason."

"Bye."

"Bye shorty," Warrick said as he left.

"Bye Green Giant."

Warrick and the child exchanged a smile.

Grissom rose, looking at the drawing Jason was doing. He walked around, staring at the space shuttle he had drawn. It was amazingly realistic.

"You're quite the artist."

Jason sat back on his legs, staring at it. He looked up at Grissom.

"I like drawing."

"That's good. I'll see you next weekend, okay?"

"Okay."

"Good night, Henry."

"Night."

Grissom left the two alone. Henry leaned on the table, closing his eyes. He looked up when Jason stroked his hair.

"We can go home now. I can finish that later."

"You sure?" Henry asked.

Jason nodded.

Henry got up and they left the room. They walked silently through Records and to the elevator. Henry let him tap the button and they waited.

"Henry?" Jason asked.

"Yeah?"

"When I graduate from college, can I really work here too?"

"I'm sure you can."

"Even if I'm not old enough?"

"How old were you planning on being when you graduated?"

"Maybe twelve."

"Oh. Well, that could pose a problem. We'll see when we get that far. College is still a ways off."

The elevator door opened and they got on. It started gliding toward the first floor.

"Should we jump?" Henry asked.

Jason nodded. They grabbed each other's hands and waited. The second before the elevator stopped they jumped. It was an optical illusion – their minds believed the elevator floor should be further away than it was, so when they landed, it felt like the car jolted and gave them a brief thrill when their stomachs flipped. The two brothers laughed as they walked off and headed home.


	26. Snow Day

26) Snow Day!

The day before, it had been eighty degrees. Catherine woke to the DJ on her radio jokingly telling his faceless audience: "You aren't going to believe this folks, but the meteorologists are predicting snow after midnight tonight."

Catherine smiled. She'd seen snow on a few occasions. The last time was in 2003 and it was gone before it started.

"Well, the temperature is holding at a bone chilling seventy-eight degrees. So bundle up for the cold snap!" He laughed and she hit snooze. Catherine left her hand on the clock for a second, and then reset the alarm for tomorrow. She climbed out of bed and went into the bathroom to start the shower…

#

"Guess what?" Grissom asked as he leaned in close to her.

Catherine smiled, not taking her eyes off the pieces of taillight she was trying to assemble. "What?"

"It's snowing."

She looked up at him, grinning. "Really?"

"It's not a blizzard, but it's still lovely. Come look."

Catherine left her evidence to follow him to a window across the hall. She leaned in it, smiling at the sight. Snow was falling in a thick, steady blanket.

"Guess I know why it's been so quiet tonight," Grissom commented.

"Why?"

"Snow is very calming."

"And cold."

"And a deterrent for people to go outside and do things they shouldn't."

She smiled at him. "Always the optimist."

"Sometimes. Better get back to your evidence."

She left him at the window. How much did he really like snow?

Around her, the night began grinding to a halt. Without new calls coming in, the techs and CSI were able to catch up on everything. Before lunch, she looked up to see most of them sitting idly talking or pretending to be working on the computer. She finished her taillight and went into the fingerprint lab. Wendy and Greg quickly pretended to be working. She smiled as she put the taillight under the hood.

"Need any help?" Greg asked.

"Any supplies for that?" Wendy asked.

Catherine chuckled. "No. Go back to gossiping."

"We weren't gossiping," Wendy retorted.

"No. We were… Talking DNA."

"Right."

The smoke hood brought no fingerprints up. She removed it, bagged it, and took it back to her box of evidence. Now she was caught up with nothing to do. Catherine carried it back to her office and sat down at her desk. She opened up her last case and in a few short sentences completed it. Catherine sat back, wishing for once she had a window in her office.

"Hi."

Catherine looked at Henry standing in her door. She smiled, "Hi."

"Do you have anything to do?"

She shook her head. "You're caught up too?"

He nodded, leaning on the door and looking out into the lab. "I bet Jason will be excited in the morning. He hasn't seen snow for so long."

"Did you get a lot in Dayton?"

Henry nodded. "Most of the winter we did. Some winters the snow was four or five feet. I remember my dad telling me that when he was a kid it had gotten up to thirteen feet one winter."

"I can't imagine that."

Henry laughed, looking at her. "Me neither. So… I'm going to the basement. Care to join me? I think that's where Mandy and Greg ran off to."

"Sure." Catherine got up and followed him out.

The two strolled through the silent halls, passing people bored and passing the time as best they could. They stopped at the elevator and Henry tapped the call button.

"I heard he's starting ninth grade next semester."

"Yeah. Probably finish tenth before the year's up. He just whizzes through their tests. He complains they're too easy."

Catherine and Henry got on and she tapped the B.

"Are you going to let him?"

"I dunno. I feel like he's not really enjoying being a kid sometimes. But I have talked him into joining a couple city sponsored teams. He refuses to play on any of the school ones. He says they pick on him a lot because he's too young for his grade."

"They're just jealous."

Henry shrugged. The doors opened and the two strolled again.

"I never played sports when I was a kid. I don't know anything about it. And I was never really picked on in my school."

"Really?"

Henry shook his head. "I got along with the upperclassmen and the ones my own age. They didn't' get along with each other, most of the time, but I did. Weird, huh?"

"That is weird."

Henry swiped a blank badge at The Records door.

"Maybe it was the crazy eye," Henry said with a smile.

"Crazy eye?"

He made a face with one eye wide and the other squinting. She laughed.

"Ah. The crazy eye. How could I have not known that?"

Henry laughed with her.

"That is not true!" they heard Mandy exclaim between laughter.

"It is too! You are!"

"I am not a klutz."

"You broke that bottle and there wasn't anything near you. How can you say you're not a klutz?"

Henry and Catherine slipped into the room, finding the two laughing and a broken bottle of water on the floor.

"Ah-ha! Catherine, isn't she a klutz if she can break a bottle – a plastic bottle – without even touching it against anything?"

Mandy turned, putting her hands on her hips, daring Catherine to comment.

"Oh no!" Catherine said, sitting on the edge of the table. "You two kids duke this out yourselves."

Henry sat down in a chair, smiling at the two.

Mandy turned, making a face at Greg.

"It's just like you to think she's going to defend you," Mandy taunted.

"I didn't see her defending _you_!"

"That's because you're a dork. I'm not!" Mandy flicked her hair back.

They all laughed when she got her ring tangled in her hair, and pulling it made it worse. Greg rolled his eyes but helped her untangle it.

"Klutz!" he said.

"I am not a klutz you… you… _man_!"

"I am a man. That's not an insult, Klutzy."

With her hand free she playfully slugged him. Greg put up his fists and the two playfully jumped around the room and pretended to be boxing. Mandy got a lucky hit to his cheek and Greg ungracefully fell back and played dead. Mandy walked over to him, crossing her arms.

"You are such a wimp. That wasn't so hard!"

He opened one eye. "It was a death punch. Shh. I'm dead."

She tapped his hip with her shoe. "You are such a dork."

"Hey look. That's why Nick released Snaps!" Greg said, pointing up at the wall.

The three looked up at the wall.

* * *

**396. I will never release a prisoner on the authority of Kong. (Nick's handwriting)**

* * *

Greg sat up and Mandy sat next to him. Catherine didn't see them play very often, not that their jobs permitted it often, but when Greg and Mandy did, it was easy to imagine they were siblings. The evil eye Hodges gave Greg during those times was an added bonus.

"Do you think Grissom caught Warrick?" Mandy asked.

* * *

**397. You may not play poker with the periodic table flash cards. (Warrick's handwriting)**

* * *

"No. I did," Catherine said. She leaned back, bracing her hands against the table behind her.

"You _actually_ got after him for playing poker with periodic flash cards?" Greg asked, looking over his shoulder at him.

"Gambling is gambling. Not permitted on city time. The next one Ecklie caught him."

* * *

**398. Ben and Jerry's******** is not permitted in the building unless you bring enough to share. (Ecklie's handwriting)**

* * *

"He got mad about that?"

Catherine laughed. "He has a thing about doughnuts and Ben and Jerry's. Deep down Ecklie desires to be a daring and unusual man. He just doesn't know it."

The three laughed.

* * *

**399. Evidence that is Halite may not be "halved" and ground to refill the saltshakers. (Grissom's handwriting)**

* * *

"That's not right. What are we supposed to do when we run out of salt?" Mandy asked.

"Cha!" Greg agreed. "And it's not like we need halite to make a case. Least not all of it."

"You two are impossible. It's evidence. Doesn't matter if we need it all or not. I might have to write you up, Greggo."

"Now hold on!" Greg smiled back at her. "What's said at The Wall, stays at The Wall. Remember?"

She thought about it a moment and then grinned. Catherine leaned forward, gripping the table edge. "I'll be watching you like a hawk the next time we have halite evidence. You realize that, don't you?"

Greg's smile dropped and he blinked a couple times. "Did I just put my foot in it?"

"Uh-huh."

"Damn!" Greg looked at Mandy before smacking her shoulder. "Why didn't you stop me?"

"Why would I do that? It's a lot more fun watching you dig holes."

"That's it. You're not my friend. Go play CSI with someone else!"

"Like Henry?" She hiked her finger over her shoulder.

"Why would you want to do that?" Greg pointed at the wall. "He's the reason Nick wrote that."

* * *

**400. Break dancing in the garage is hazardous to your health and reputation. (Nick's handwriting)**

* * *

The three looked back at Henry. He looked at the floor with a tight smile, but his ruddy cheeks couldn't hide his guilt.

"Henry!" Catherine gasped, and then laughed. "Henry!"

"I was just… Trying to…"

"Yes?"

"Trying to…"

"Go on? We're dying to hear this." Mandy told him.

"Trying to…" Henry sighed. "There was a nice clean floor, and the right music, and it just happened. I don't have an excuse."

"Strangely, I find the image of Henry break dancing disturbing and uncomfortable," Mandy told Greg.

"I heard it's more like dangerous and one should be careful of the genitals when trying to stop him."

Mandy and Catherine burst out laughing. Henry's blush deepened.

Catherine reached over, patting Henry's shoulder. "It's okay. We still love you. At least you don't use car parts for questionable experiments that they weren't intended for. Unlike Nicholas."

* * *

**401. We do not do stress tests on car parts that were purchased as control parts for a previous crime scene, even if "the data collected could be invaluable for future cases." (Grissom's handwriting)**

* * *

"What exactly did he do with car parts?" Mandy asked them. "And where was I when this happened?"

"You were off," Greg told her. "And he was testing the velocity of something, I don't remember what. Turns out, he wasn't supposed to be testing the velocity of anything and he wasn't supposed to be using the car parts, and he nearly got us both fired."

"Oooohhhh. So that's why Grissom wasn't talking to him when I came back to work?"

"Nicky may be Grissom's favorite, but even he pushes his buttons sometimes."

"I thought I was his favorite!" Greg and Henry argued.

Mandy giggled. Catherine shook her head.

"Greg, you will never, truly, be his favorite, pulling stunts like that just to get a date." Catherine pointed at the wall.

* * *

**402. We do not confiscate badges from sexy police officer as "evidence." (Grissom's handwriting)**

* * *

"What? She was cute! I had to get her name somehow because she wasn't giving it to me."

"She was married."

"How was I supposed to know that?"

"Wedding rings are usually good tell-tales."

Greg frowned. "Wedding rings are optional."

"You are weird," Mandy told him.

"I'm not weird."

"You're weird."

"Brass is weird. What the hell is that about anyway?"

* * *

**403. Vinegar does stop criminals. (Brass' handwriting)**

* * *

Catherine laughed, letting her head fall back. "Oh my! That was one of Jim's shining moments!"

"Tell! Tell!" Mandy urged.

Catherine looked at the three, finding them waiting like children at story time.

"I showed up at a crime scene. Two dead, one headed to the hospital, lots of suspects. I started processing and him and this guy he was questioning start yelling at each other. The man suddenly bolts. Jim, he's not about to run after him. So he lets the uniforms chase. He goes into the kitchen, picks up a bottle of vinegar, and goes to the back door. The guy came running out and Jim tosses the bottle at him. The cap flies off and vinegar splashes the guy in the face. He goes down, gets arrested. I go up to Jim and ask how he knew that would work. He looks at me and in Jim fashion, he tells me, 'I meant to hit him over the head with the bottle. Next time I'll just splash the criminal in the face. That worked faster.' Sometimes… I think he's getting senile."

"Wow!" Henry said. "And it's scary to think he never plans any of these happy mistakes."

"Happy mistakes rule," Mandy admitted. "I love happy mistakes."

"That's cuz you're a klutz," Greg told her.

"I'm going to clobber you."

"Promise? Will you tie me up first too?"

"You are impossible, sicko!"

Greg grinned, leaning his shoulder against her. "Hey, you wanna join me next time? It was fun until Nick, Warrick, and I got caught."

* * *

**404. Just because they did it on "Smash Lab" or "Mythbusters" doesn't mean I should. (Warrick's handwriting)**

* * *

"So you _were_ involved in all those so-called experiments?" Catherine said.

Greg dropped his head. "Mandy! Damnit! Why do you keep letting me do that?"

She laughed. "I already told you why. You're on your own."

"If you're this mean to everyone else, then I know why they did that to you."

* * *

**405. You will not replace your female co-worker's blush with pink finger dust powder. **_**Contributed by BobbyandLindsay4ever**_

* * *

"They who?" Mandy asked.

He laughed. "I dunno."

"You do to know!"

"I know naw-thing," Greg said with a bad Mexican accent.

"It was you, wasn't it? You did that."

"I know naw-thing."

"I don't believe you."

"Look what Bobby did!" Greg said, changing the subject to get out of trouble.

* * *

**406. Inflatable sheep may not perform autopsies. (Robbin's handwriting)**

* * *

"Okay. What is the deal with this stupid inflatable sheep?"

"You heard his story. His girlfriend in college gave it to him."

"Yes. But why? Why would any woman give a guy an inflatable sheep, unless she's telling him something?"

Greg and Mandy looked at each other, then back at her and shrugged.

"Not a clue. But I'm sure there was a very good reason. Maybe it has something to do with being from Oklahoma."

"I thought he was from Texas."

"Naw. Oklahoma."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure. Oklahoma."

"Are you sure, you're sure?"

"I'm sure that I'm sure that you're not sure that I'm sure."

"But are you sure that your sure that I'm not sure that your sure I'm not sure?"

"Did you know that not all crystal meth is crystal meth?" Henry asked.

The two looked at him, then the wall.

* * *

**407. Just because it looks like meth, doesn't mean it is.**

* * *

"And just what would it be?" Greg asked.

"Ahhhh. See, that's the joy of knowing chemistry and crystals. And if it weren't for this show I got hooked on, I never would have realized that crystallized mercury and meth look so much alike."

The three stared at him.

"Was this evidence?" Catherine asked.

"Yeah. Grissom's, as a matter of fact. We almost blew up the lab. Again."

"Why? What's the deal with crystallized mercury?" Mandy asked.

"It's highly volatile. You just have to bump it against something and boom! There's goes your face. It's really cool."

"So the evidence didn't have any meth?"

"Oh no. It had meth. But in with it were these little bags. I never would have caught it except I noticed these bags were stapled shut, not sealed with heat. That makes sense. It's also sensitive to temperature changes."

"So the dealer rigged his stash?"

"Yeah."

"With crystal mercury?"

"Yeah."

"Was this guy a chemist?"

"Dunno. I didn't ask Grissom."

"I hate it when the pushers know more about this stuff than we do," Catherin grumbled.

"I hate it when I'm expected to chase them. The job poster said nothing about, "become a CSI, pursue criminals.'"

* * *

**408. We do not tell our co-workers "Jump! It doesn't look that far!"**

* * *

"There was no job poster," Catherine reminded him, then asked. "Jump what?"

Greg looked back with narrow eyes. "Warrick and I chased this guy through an apartment building to the roof. The guy jumps across from one building to the next, barely makes it. I stopped right at the edge and that's what Warrick yells at me as he's running up. But then he stops at the edge to."

Catherine laughed. "At least you weren't stupid enough to listen. Unlike Nicky."

"Warrick talked him into that?"

* * *

**409. State Patrol motorcycles that arrive at the scene are not considered evidence and do not need to be confiscated. (Nick's handwriting)**

* * *

Catherine nodded. "He was dead tired, not functioning real well that morning, and Warrick was wired for sound. He convinced poor Nicky that we needed the motorcycle for processing. So he loads it up on a flatbed, gets it tied down, and he and the driver start back. They don't even get a mile and two patrol cars chase them down and stop them. The patrolman just tore into Nick. By the time we got there they were screaming at each other. Warrick realized Nick didn't understand it was joke about then and he bailed him out, but Nick didn't talk to him for two days over that."

"Where was I?" Greg asked.

"This only happens on your days off, Greg. You miss all the good stuff lately."

"Apparently. And that should have been my line. I don't know how many times Grissom has asked me what a text on my phone means."

* * *

**410. When a supervisor grabs your phone to answer it and asks what the newly arrived text message "SorG PRON -)?" means… LIE! Archie**

* * *

"And do you tell him?" Mandy asked.

"Hell no!"

"So what does it mean?" Catherine asked.

"Do you really want to know?" Greg asked.

"Yes."

"Do you really, really want to know?" Mandy asked her.

"Is it that bad?"

"Maybe not. But are you sure you want to know?" Henry asked.

Catherine sighed. "Yes. Lay it on me."

Almost in unison the three answered, "Do you have straight or gay pornography and evil laughter."

"Now, see, you guys made me believe this was going to be really bad. Why would Archie have a text like that on his work phone?"

"Unlimited text messaging on work phones. You do the math," Henry answered.

"He has a side business, doesn't he?"

"Yep," the three answered.

"And I probably shouldn't know about it, should I?"

"Nope."

"I'll pretend I don't know what's going on and we'll move on to the next one."

The three laughed at her..

"When did Mandy say that?" Henry asked.

* * *

**411. When asked what technology is important to my job, the wrong answer is, "The rubber band." (Wendy's handwriting)**

* * *

"When Ecklie decided to promote the lab with an open house," Mandy answered. "You and Jason had gone back to Ohio for vacation. You missed all the fun."

"She said that to some reporter, who quoted her, and the quote got to the mayor, who called the chief, who called Ecklie, how called Grissom, who was supposed to reprimand her. Instead he asked her why she thought the rubber band was the most important tool." Mandy leaned back, bracing her hands against the cement floor. "Wendy goes into an hour long essay about the rubber band, how it was created, and why it is the most important tool. She gets all done, and Grissom asks her why she didn't say that to the report? She said it would have bored the reporter. Grissom tells her, 'Exactly. And then I would not have been asked to write you up. Now go call that reporter and tell her exactly what you just told me.' She didn't think he was serious until he demanded she do it. The reporter later printed an apology, explaining why the rubber band was so important to our job."

"Wow!" Catherine said. "I didn't even know that much about the incident."

"Did you really want to, is the _real_ question."

"I… Think I'll get back to you on that. Move onto another not so brilliant move of Warrick's."

* * *

**412. If a suspect or witness says "I just couldn't sleep. I kept hearing someone…" I will not mutter, "That was just SWAT surrounding your house." (Warrick's handwriting)**

* * *

"He didn't!" Mandy gasped, looking over her shoulder at Catherine.

"He did. Luckily everyone, except the suspect, thought it was funny. Oh Henry. Henry, Henry, Henry… What would we do without you adding to the chaos?"

* * *

**413. When investigating a scene of a plane crash, I will not quote the Animaniac's stewardess: "Thank you for choosing Air Pacific. You have well over a forty percent chance of landing safely. Enjoy your flight."**

* * *

"Now hold on there!" Henry laughed heartily. "I tried my best to warn everyone that I should never be allowed out of the asylum. I told you guys not to put me in the field; I might have adverse reactions to the fresh air and freedom. I thought I pleaded a convincing case. And then you and Grissom decide I have to go help with the plane crash cuz Greg and Nick were out sick. Do not say I did not warn you."

"We will heed the warnings as long as we can – but not when we're shorthanded."

"Then I can't be held responsible for what misbehavior my alter ego appropriates in the face of newfound freedoms."

"Speaking of appropriating…"

* * *

**414. I will not misappropriate cadets to do yard work, even if it is "on government property and would help reduce overhead landscaping costs." (Ecklie's handwriting)**

* * *

"Do you think Ecklie did that?" Mandy asked.

"Naw. No way." Greg shook his head. "Ecklie wouldn't do that?"

"I think he would," Henry told them. "He has a hidden side that's really scary and amusing at the same time."

"You realize that's near impossible to have, don't you?" Mandy asked him.

"You don't watch horror movies much, do you?"

"Try not to."

"I noticed Catherine hasn't commented on this." Greg dropped his head back to look at her.

She laughed at him. "Sorry, Greggo, I know nothing about this one, but I'm sure it's good, whatever it is. What exactly is an Evil Overlord? Is this some movie or book I know nothing about?"

* * *

**415. I am not an Evil Overlord. Therefore, Evil Overlord rules do supersede departmental rules and regulations. Especially that whole 'questioning my enemies in a small motel outside of my kingdom' and 'shooting is not too good for my enemies.' (Archie's handwriting)**

* * *

"Naw," Henry answered. "It's this funny list that lives on the Internet."

"Lives on the Internet? How does something live on the Internet."

"You'd be surprised. There's even a crazy theory by this one guy that believes actual black holes exist on the Internet – micro black holes he says – and that's where all those emails you never receive go, or where websites disappear at random."

"I don't know which is scarier," Mandy started, twisting to look him in the eye. "The fact that there's some freak out there that thinks that, or the fact that you even know that some freak that thinks that is out there."

Henry twisted his lips for a second. "I'll have to get back to you on that."

"You do that. I'll hold my breath."

"Really?"

"No!"

"Catherine…" Greg looked over his shoulder at her, dipping his chin. "Did you do a no-no?"

* * *

**416. I will not threaten to hang a suspect off the top floor by his ankles if he doesn't cooperate.**

* * *

She laughed, clasping her hands in her lap. "Yes. Even me, your pseudo-supervisor can get in trouble. Don't faint or anything."

"Did it work? To threaten the suspect?"

"Yeah. Actually. Worked great. Grissom told me never, ever, ever, _ever_ to do it again."

"He wasn't impressed with your mad interrogation skills, huh?"

"I think he was mad about my interrogation skills at that point."

"The quiet hardly speaking mad, or the pulls you into a room to ream you a new one, mad?"

"Quiet hardly speaking mad."

"Oooo! I hate that one. When he's like that, I always expect a pink slip at the end of my shift."

"Ours are goldenrod."

"They are?"

"Yes."

"Oooo. I hate that one. When he's like—"

"Why would Hodges write that?"

* * *

**417. Lab rats don't do mazes. (Hodge's handwriting)**

* * *

"Ecklie compared him to a real lab rat in a maze one day because he was having trouble getting to a lab," Henry answered.

"You know, I'd think those two would get along better. They're a lot alike," Mandy commented.

"How do you mean?" Greg asked.

"They don't have mad people skills."

"I dunno. Ecklie got to be the lab's Big Kahuna. That takes made people skills."

"That wasn't mad people skills. That was buttering up the right people with dinners and brown nosing. There's a difference."

"You're cold."

"Actually, I am a little chilly."

The three laughed at her.

"Ecklie caught Warrick doing this," Catherine told them.

* * *

**418. Coercing a confession by eating sweets in front of a suspect is wrong. (Warrick's handwriting)**

* * *

"But the thing is," Catherine continued, "It worked. It worked really, really well. And the suspect told us everything we wanted to know. All for the bite of Warrick's grandma's fudge."

"Oooooohhhhhh." Greg went limp, crumpling to the floor. "Gram's fudge! No wonder the suspect caved. It's so sinful!"

"How sinful?" Mandy asked.

"So sinful," Greg rolled onto his back, smiling with pleasure. "Almost better than sex, but only marginally."

"Wow! There's an image."

"It's that good, I tell ya."

Catherine stood up and grabbed the box of chalk. She walked to the wall and added:

* * *

**419. When processing a strip club crime scene, you will not ask your female co-worker to "show her moves." **_**Contributed by BobbyandLindsay4ever**_

* * *

"Who asked you to do that?" Henry asked.

She looked down at Greg. "I wonder."

Greg sat up, looking at the rule. He gave her an ornery smile. "You said you used to be a stripper. I just wanted proof."

"Yeah. And what did I tell you?"

"If I ever ask you to do that again you'll hit me so hard I'll be wearing my nose on my belly button?"

Henry and Mandy laughed.

"Good rookie. You can be taught."

Greg jumped up, holding his hand out. "I got one!"

She tossed it to him and he wrote:

* * *

**420. I will not bribe or coax or coerce a coke addict with powdered sugar.**

* * *

"Nicky," he said, pointing at the rule. "He caught Brass doing this. Brass didn't get busted, so he tried it. He got busted by Brass. Irony, that."

"Now. That's just the way of tenure," Catherine told him.

Catherine answered her phone when it started ringing. "Hey Grissom. Yeah. They're here with me. We were discussing a case. What's up?" Catherine winked at the three. "Sure, we'll be right up." Catherine hung up. "We have a call, Greg. Grissom needs the tox results from his John Doe, Henry, and Mandy, he's looking for the fingerprints from that murder in Paradise Valley."

The three got up and filed out of the room. Catherine was last out and found Henry waiting for her. She could hear Greg and Mandy arguing about something. She and Henry began walking.

"Don't you have tomorrow off?" Catherine asked Henry.

He nodded. "Yeah. Why?"

"Come by for supper. Lindsay likes having Jason help her with her calculus."

"Okay. What we having?"

"I dunno. I haven't gotten that far."

He smiled. "Okay. I'll bring the soda."

"Works for me."

The two walked out of Records, finding Greg and Mandy in the hall pretending to be boxing again. Catherine and Henry laughed as the two continued all the way to the lab.


	27. Signs, Signs, Everywhere There's Signs

27) Signs, Signs, Everywhere There's Signs

_A slight deviation from rules…_

Grissom appeared in Catherine's office door and right away she could see he was fuming.

"I want The Wall crew at The Wall in ten minutes. No matter what they're doing, they will drop it and get down there now." He turned to leave.

"Why? What's wrong?"

He looked back at her. "You're in as much trouble as they are so I suggest you don't ask questions and get a move on."

She was speechless, only able to watch him disappear from her door. What had she done? Catherine got up and started collecting the crew.

#

Grissom charged into the room, finding all The Wall Crew – minus Robbins and Ecklie – waiting for him.

He slapped a stack of papers down on the table, and pointed at them while he told them, "I am tired of all the other supervisors, the Under Sheriff, the Sherriff, and a whole lot of other people bringing these things to me and asking why they've been posted!"

The group looked at the stack of papers. Nick reached out to pick one of the papers up. He moved slow, watching Grissom watch him. Grissom mad was not a nice thing to be at the end of, and he felt that a sudden movement could set him off. Nick held up the paper and read it out loud:

* * *

**Sperm Washing from 8p to 10a**

* * *

Because he could tell Grissom was furious about this, he looked somewhere other than at him or he'd start laughing. He had written this one and taped it to Ecklie's office door.

"These signs are just pranks, Grissom. There's no harm in them," Mandy said.

"These _pranks_ are getting _me_ in trouble, and I don't appreciate that," Grissom growled at her.

She snatched the one off the top, and without looking at it read it:

* * *

**Child drop off. Have alms ready.**

* * *

"Really, Grissom, how can that be offensive?" Mandy asked.

"I said _enough_. No more signs. Understand. No more!"

The group didn't answer. Grissom grabbed a piece of chalk and walked over to the wall. With angry, jabbing strokes he wrote:

* * *

**421. I will not post signs around the lab that are neither accurate nor unnecessary.**

* * *

Grissom tossed the chalk down, turning to them. "No more!" He turned to Catherine. "Before anyone leaves this room, I expect _you_ to make sure that rule is engrained in their heads. You'll be the first one I reprimand if I see even one more sign."

Then he left, leaving behind a very stunned Wall Crew. They were half expecting him to come back in and tell them this was a prank, that they'd just been punk'd, there were hidden cameras, and more importantly, that he really didn't mean rule number four hundred and twenty-one. But he didn't return. His unusual angry reprimand had been real and he wanted to make sure they understood, without any doubt, he was not tolerating it anymore.

Nick reached out and picked up the stack of papers, thumbing through them.

"Who put signs up?" Catherine said, turning to them.

No one answered. They avoided eye contact with her. She realized they were all guilty of this. She shook her head, taking the signs from Nick. He almost argued until she gave him a level glance. She leaned against the table, reading the top one out loud:

* * *

**Internal Affairs Conspirators meeting held here. All attendees must present the head of an officer before entering.**

* * *

She looked up when Greg and Archie both stifled their snickers.

"Boys?"

"He did it," they said together, pointing at the other.

"Something tells me you both did it."

"Aw come on, Catherine!" Warrick protested. "That's funny. All those signs are funny. There was no reason to yell at all of us for them."

"Or for anyone to yell at Grissom for them," Hodges added.

She went to the next one:

* * *

**Diabolical National Alien meeting here. 9pm - 10pm**

* * *

"Diabolical National Alien meeting? What the hell is that?" Catherine asked.

Wendy answered, "DNA."

Catherine couldn't resist laughing. "DNA?"

"Yep."

"That is not what DNA stands for."

"Depends on if you're a doctor or an alien, really."

Catherine shook her head and read the next one:

* * *

**Fingerprinting. Bring your own paints**

* * *

"That was funny. We all finger-painted that night. We were bored," Henry told her.

"And where was this hung?"

"Outside the fingerprint lab," Mandy told her.

"And the DNA?"

"The DNA lab," Henry answered.

"And the Internal Affairs Conspirators?"

"Taped real good on the undersheriff's door," Nick said.

"And the children and sperm washing?"

"Children was on the janitor closet door. Sperm washing, Ecklie's," Greg answered.

"You guys! It's no wonder he's mad!"

"Hey, our jobs are stressful," Warrick retorted. "We have to find ways to make them less stressful. Even if it is at our supervisor's, and their supervisor's, expense."

"And their supervisor's supervisor's supervisor's expense," Nick added.

"NO!" Catherine told them. "You do not make your job less stressful at anyone's expense, except for criminals. And this doesn't count!" She held up the next sign:

* * *

**America's Dumbest Criminal drop off / pick up**

* * *

"Who's door?" she asked.

"Undersheriff," the group answered.

"Why do _all_ of you know that?"

They smiled, but no one offered an explanation.

"And this one." Catherine read it out loud:

* * *

**Hoe delivery taken in back**

* * *

"What does that even mean?" Catherine demanded.

They laughed.

"Wow... I didn't think you were _that_ old, Catherine," David told her.

She narrowed her eyes. "What do you mean?"

"You have to lower your mind set to about gutter level," Hodges told her.

"Lower," Greg said.

"Sewer?"

"Lower," Warrick told him.

"Sewage filth level?"

"Lower," Nick said.

"I get it," Catherine told them. "And if it means what I'm thinking it means, this is considered sexual harassment." She waved the sign at them. "You should all be written up for even knowing what the person that wrote it meant. Who wrote this one?"

They pointed at each other.

They weren't about to cooperate, so she moved on to the next sign:

* * *

**Complaint department located in Sacramento. See the Pug at the corner newsstand for directions. Avoid conversation with his 'owner.'**

* * *

"What the hell?" she asked.

"What?" several of them asked back.

"Pug? As in a dog?"

"Yeah," Henry answered.

"A talking dog?"

"You don't watch movies much, do you?" Gina asked.

"_You_ get what this means?"

"Men in Black, first one. The Pug is an alien and talks, the owner's part if his disguise."

"Alrighty then… Anyone care to explain these two to me?" She held them up.

* * *

**No boys allowed.**

* * *

**No girls allowed.**

* * *

"Well…" Wendy started. "The boys put the girl's sign on the girl's bathroom."

Gina finished, "So we put the boys sign on the boys bathroom. It was appropriate."

Catherine frowned when she looked at the signs. "You guys are very strange."

"We not strange. You strange!" Archie told her.

She shook her head, reading the next one:

* * *

**S.W.A.T. team clubhouse.**

* * *

Putting on a pitiful, hurt look, Henry told her, "They took over our break room."

"When?"

"Three nights ago. After that standoff at the Mirage. They wouldn't let us have our break room back."

"So you put a sign on the break room?"

"Well… Yeah. They wouldn't let us have our break room back."

"You guys need to learn to share. And I supposed this happened at the same time?"

* * *

**Bombs and Squads must be escorted at all times.**

* * *

"Hey, they didn't seem to know if they were the Bomb Squad or Squad," Gina retorted. "We made sure all parts of them were escorted when they left the conference room. We were just covering our assets."

"Assets?"

"She means asses," Warrick said.

"I mean my assets. They kept stealing the candy from my candy jar!"

"You guys you _have_ to play better with the rest of the departments."

"We're all for playing cops and robbers nice!" Greg told her. "They're the ones that come in and tear up our makeshift jail cells and interrogation rooms. One even stole my paper badge!"

"I'm going to be gray before I'm fifty…"

They just smiled at her. She held up the next one.

* * *

**Buy one spectrum analysis, get one free**

* * *

"We're selling our services now?"

"I never actually put a price on there," Henry said.

"You put a price on this one, Henry. So now what's your excuse?" She held up the next one:

* * *

**CODIS searches: 14.99, AFIS searches: 20.99, random Google searches: 6.99, throwing darts at board with predetermined answers: FREE**

* * *

"I didn't do that," Henry retorted.

"I thought those were fair prices, myself," Nick said.

"You wrote this?"

"No. I just thought they were pretty fair. Those things take us a lot of time."

"Where… Where was this posted?"

No one readily offered an answer.

"Where?"

"It might have… Maybe… Possibly…" Archie hesitated, and then said as fast as he could, "Found its way to the mayor's door on someone's day off."

"Yours?"

"No! No. Not mine."

"Who's?"

Again they all pointed at each other. "You guys are impossible! How are Grissom and I supposed to enforce any discipline if you guys won't fess up to your mistakes?"

"They aren't mistakes," Gina told her.

"How do you figure?"

"Mistakes would mean we didn't mean to do them."

"Mistakes are also things you know damn well you're not supposed to be doing and do it anyway."

"That's a mere technicality that is otherwise impertinent and meaningless."

"Gina…"

"Besides, you aren't my supervisor. Neither is Grissom. Ecklie is."

"Gina…"

"What?"

"Stop encouraging the rest of the class." Catherine held up the next sign, adding, "And don't deny it either. This is your handwriting."

* * *

**Goldenrod forms required for ballistic returns.**

* * *

"Whaaaaaat?" Gina innocently asked.

"What goldenrod forms? And for what ballistic returns?"

"Returns… In general. Any returns. Little returns. Big returns. Bullet returns. Just… Returns."

"Bobby, explain." She held up the next one.

* * *

**Please see receptionist for goldfish removal.**

* * *

"She always flushes the goldfish that I kill," Bobby told her.

"You're keeping goldfish in ballistics?" Catherine asked.

"He means the crackers," Nick said, laughing. "When these two go into one of their little pseudo-sibling spats, he bites the heads off all of the fish and gives her the bag. Gina gets mad and tosses the entire bag in the toilet."

"Oh. Southern blots?" Catherine held up the next sign.

* * *

**All Southern blots are to report to the green door on level three.**

* * *

"Does this have something to do with Bobby or Nick?"

"Bobby isn't Southern," Nick retorted.

Bobby nodded. "I'm not Southern."

"Whatever! Is it or not?"

"No!" Greg told her. "It has to do with DNA testing. Are you a CSI or a duck?"

His question made her eyebrows rise. "A duck?"

"Yeah." Greg grinned. "Hey, I like that."

"That _was_ good," Nick agreed.

"I would have chosen something a little furrier for Catherine," Warrick admitted. "Like a badger."

"Badger?" she asked him.

"Yeah. You know. Kinda cute until you make it mad and then it'll rip your face off."

"Thank you!" She laughed. "I like you too."

He grinned. "Thanks!"

"That was sarcasm."

"Sounded sincere to me."

"What is this?" Catherine held up the sign:

* * *

**Restricting fragmented length polymorphisms prohibited.**

* * *

"DNA reference," Greg and Wendy answered.

"Another one?"

"Oh yeah. World's full of great DNA one liners," Wendy told her.

"I'll take your word for it. This one?"

* * *

**Algae processing half-off today only.**

* * *

"Morning shift left us a box of rocks with algae on it and a note asking us to test the algae for toxic substances," she explained. "And we finished it. The next morning, there were two boxes of rocks with algae, same note. The _next_ morning—"

"Let me guess. Three boxes of rocks with algae and a note asking it to be tested?"

"Yeah. So we left them a kind note and they didn't give us anymore boxes of rocks with algae."

You guys need more work." Catherine showed them the next sign:

* * *

**Conglomerate Sediment Metamorphic Therapy every Tuesday, 2am to 5am**

* * *

**Igneous Support group every Thursday, 1am to 3am**

* * *

"Rocks have feelings," Greg told her.

"Greg!" She let her head fall back a moment, then looked him in the eye. "For the billionth time, Gregory Hojem Sanders, _rocks do __**not**__ have feelings_!"

"How do you know that? Have you ever asked one?"

"I… I'm not even going to justify that with an answer. Let me guess. One of my lovely underlings put this on Grissom's door?"

* * *

**Insects for sale. Bonus shrunken head with every purchase. Inquire within.**

* * *

"Yeah," Archie answered. "And he thought it was amusing at the time. I'm surprised it upset him now."

"Right. Bobby?"

* * *

**Beware of irregular trajectory projectiles**

* * *

Bobby grinned. "Never know with ballistics. Especially when we're testing Nerf crossbows."

"Nerf crossbows?"

"It was a test."

"Of what?"

"Just a test."

"For what purpose?"

Bobby's smile dropped. "We had to have a purpose? No one mentioned anything about a purpose."

She rolled her eyes, moving on. "This doesn't make sense, Henry."

* * *

**Please hold autoradiograph requests until after presentation.**

* * *

"Sure it does!" he piped.

"How?"

"Well…" Henry's smile widened with orneriness. "Once they're printed, you probably have to hold on to them, and present them to someone, so… hence holding them until after presentation."

Catherine was momentarily dumbfounded with the answer and the fact that he took something that was so obvious and made it obtrusive by putting it on a sign.

"You do realize that you are, at times, far too smart for your own good, don't you?"

"I've noticed that on a few occasions."

Catherine held up the next, questioning the text:

* * *

**No flourescien permitted until all lawyers have been cleared from the building.**

* * *

"We wanna make sure we know exactly when to use it, in case there's some lawyer in the lab that's allergic to pretty much anything. Or so she claims."

"But Henry, we use this at crime scenes, rarely in the lab."

"She sued the lab for jeopardizing her health."

"And our lawyers won that case."

"I'm just helping to avoid future complications with lawyers too stupid to tie their own shoes."

"She didn't have her shoes tied?"

"She was wearing heels. She tried to tie her shoe. I think she was hiding something about her law degree, myself."

"Riiiighhht. And bomb making?" She held up the sign.

* * *

**Blast Caps 2. Copper wiring 6. Sides of TNT, RDX, or PETN 1. Order alterations additional charges.**

* * *

"Exactly how much don't Grissom and I know about you brats?" Catherine asked.

"We're good lab rats," Mandy told her.

"Completely devoid of misbehavior," Nick added with a solid nod.

"We would never, ever do something dangerous or questionable behind your backs," Warrick told her.

"All of your noses have just grown five inches. David? Really?"

* * *

**Corpse Crossing**

* * *

"I wanted to make sure everyone knew that's where the corpses crossed so they wouldn't be surprised."

"And that being where, exactly?"

"That was the day we had to go through the lobby because the mortician's elevator had broke down. We just wanted to make sure everyone was aware dead people were going to be seen, but not talking."

"Seen… But not talking… I probably don't want to know, do I?"

He smiled.

"Guys… This one doesn't even make sense!"

* * *

**Luminol and latex only permitted the second Wednesday each week.**

* * *

"No one ever said our signs had to make _sense_," Gina argued.

"And who did this one?"

* * *

**Wendy Crossing. High profile vehicles use low speeds.**

* * *

Everyone pointed at Hodges.

"She called me a complicated oaf!"

"You _are_ a complicated oaf!" Wendy argued back.

"I am not."

"If you could only hear yourself right ow," Archie commented.

"Whose side are you on?" Hodges demanded.

"The one that is least likely to kick my butt."

They all laughed. Except Hodges.

"Why do the jokes always seem to come back to me?"

"You make yourself an easy target, Hodges," Catherine told him.

"How? All I do is stand here and be nice to everyone and—"

They all howled with laughter at the 'be nice' part.

"I'm going back to work!" Hodges told them as he stormed out of the room.

"Please tell me you guys don't really do this." She held up the next sign.

* * *

**Employees must wash Maglites before returning to work**

* * *

"Well, we have to wash our hands before returning to work," Nick explained, "so it only makes since we'd wash them too since we handle it all the time."

"Really? Is that why you go through so many, Nick?"

He looked surprised at the accusation. "Me?"

"The manufacturer advertises them as sound and water proof. And what about that testimony on their website?" Greg asked.

"What testimony?" Catherine asked back.

"Some guy on a submarine left his in this place that floods when they submerge and when he finally got it, it was working."

"And there was the stories about it lasting during floods, underwater, turned on," Warrick pointed out.

"You three are unbelievable. Who wrote this?"

* * *

**Barf bag in tow**

* * *

No one pointed, and no one fessed up.

"Does anyone know what it means?"

They all smiled, but no one answered.

"I take your grins as a yes. Does someone want to clue me in?"

They didn't answer.

"Thought not. This one?"

* * *

**Humerus not permitted during the hours of 10am to 12pm**

* * *

"It's a coroner joke," David told her.

"Apparently I have to cut people up to get it?"

"No. Just know anatomy."

She looked at the sign, then him. "I still don't get it."

He shrugged. "Robbins did."

"Uh-huh. And I guess these two are coroner jokes too?" She read the next two aloud:

* * *

**Toe Zone**

* * *

**Necropsy Anonymous meet here every day from 12a - 1a**

* * *

"David… Were you bored?"

"Some nights. More people need to die."

She was the only one that didn't laugh, but he responded to the others with a grin.

"And you call us morbid!" Nick said.

"He talks to dead people. He's allowed," Gina told him.

"I don't talk to dead people," David protested, loudly.

The all looked at him.

He smiled, sheepishly adding, "Much."

Catherine held up the next one. "Do we really have to do the DNA jokes? I mean, really. How funny _is_ DNA?"

* * *

**Know Your Mitochondrial DNA Conference has been postponed until Friday.**

* * *

"It can be really amusing," Greg told her.

"Uh-huh. Okay, look guys, you all need—"

"What's the last one say?" Henry asked.

"That was it," Catherine told him.

"No it wasn't. There's twenty-three and you only read twenty-two."

Everyone stared at him.

"Damn! Can I be smart like you?" Archie asked.

"Take more iron," Henry shot back, but he was relentless about the signs. "What's the last sign say, Catherine?"

She laughed, putting her hands behind her back with the signs. "It's not really appropriate."

"And the hoe one was?" Hodges asked. "What does it say?"

"Nothing! Just blank paper." Catherine pulled her hands around and showed them a blank page… Until she turned it write and they could all see writing on the other side.

Warrick and Greg grabbed her and Nick and Henry wrestled the paper out of her hand.

"NO!" Catherine cried, trying to hold on tight.

They pulled them away and Nick moved behind the line of Wallers. He turned it over, reading:

* * *

**Lemming Drop-off Ahead. Be prepared for sudden stops**

* * *

Gina pulled the paper so she could see it, and then cried, "Catherine!"

"What?"

"That is _your_ handwriting!"

"Guess dad's mad at mom for joining the kid's pranks," Nick said. "Thanks Catherine. You just had to put the last needle on the… Wait… Where did you hang this?"

Catherine looked down, away from all of them.

"Where did you hang this?" Nick pressed, starting to laugh.

She looked up at the ceiling, just smiling. "I have no idea what you mean."

"CATHERINE!" Greg gave her arm a playful slug. "Where did you hang it? It had to be somewhere good for him to go off like he did."

"Come on, Catherine," Mandy said, sidling up to her and putting her arm around Catherine's shoulders. "You're at The Wall. Tell us."

Catherine laughed, rolling her eyes. "On the door of the conference room tonight."

A round of gasps met her answer, followed by laughter.

"The meeting with the mayor about some disciplinary infractions among the CSI and lab techs. Not just our shift, all of them. It's just a little sign! And I put it down low!"

Warrick put his arm around her, smiling as he nodded. "It's nice to know our pseudo-supervisor can get in trouble with the best of us."

"Yeah… But I don't think it did much for Grissom's mood."

"Do you think he told them who did it?" Bobby asked her.

She laughed, shaking her head. "He was mad when he was ordered to attend the meeting, but I think the meeting made him madder than the sign did."

Her phone began ringing and she answered it. "Willows… Yes. Yes… Yes, Gil. We'll be right up. Yes we did. No I'm not lying! We'll be right up. Bye."

She snapped her phone closed. "He wants us to work pronto and guys, be good tonight. He's still fuming."

Catherine tossed the signs on the table and led the group out. Nick caught up to her, waving the sign at her.

"Lemmings is really a good term for them, you know?"

She laughed, ripping the sign from his hand. She folded it and slid it in her back pocket.

"Shhh. They might hear you and run off the cliff."

Nick laughed with her.


	28. Boys Gone Wild

28) Good Boys Gone Wild

The occasion was pretty rare. And it cropped up by surprise after the last quarter budget was announced and the city had sunk more money into the police department at the demand of Las Vegas citizens. Oh… If only they knew what holy terrors they created with that move. It meant that night shift suddenly could afford to hire two more CSI and three more lab techs – that made Grissom and Catherine happy, yes, but those that had worked long hours, given up days off, were ecstatic. Because that led to this rare, diamond moment: Nick, Greg, and Archie had all been granted the same vacation days off. Leading to the three reeking chaos across town.

The first night, they invaded Nick's house to watch a basketball game.

The next night, they went to a bar and discovered Archie was a light weight – and prone to hitting on anything that moved when he was completely hammered.

The third night they decided to take in a show – at a strip club – and not one of them went home alone that night.

The fourth night, they decided to take in a matinee, and then another matinee, and then another, and then there were no matinees, so they just went to three more movies.

The fifth night was an entire day at the amusement park. They left sunburned and went out clubbing until Warrick and Bobby got off, then they met for breakfast.

That is when things went south…

Warrick suggested they hit Greg's condo and watch a game. The game was good; the beer was good. The beer led to much harder liquor. Then one of them (they would blame it on Bobby later although they would never really be certain) decided that maybe they should take Nick's truck, go around town to find free furniture, and furnish The Wall.

So here they were… Parked in the back of the station where the broken door had no alarm – if Las Vegas knew about that door they'd all be in trouble -- trying to get a sectional to the basement without anyone seeing or hearing them, while drunk.

"Slow down! Damnit, Warrick, slow down!" Archie giggled.

Warrick, who was at the back suddenly sat down, his end of the section they had sitting on his lap. He pressed his face into it to mute his laughter. Below them, Nick and Greg looked back, but they were in no better shape. They were having as much trouble holding it back as Archie and Warrick were. Far below, at the basement door, Bobby was looking up the space in the stairs.

"What? What happened?" Bobby giggled.

"I don't know!" Nick laughed harder. "Bobby. Bobby! Go check the hall, we're almost there. Go!"

Bobby dashed back to the door and peaked through the window. He turned, grinning. "Clear still!"

Greg and Nick made it to the bottom and with Bobby playing scout, slipped into Records. Bobby trotted back to the door to wait for Archie and Warrick. Warrick was still laughing too hard to move, which was making Archie laugh harder.

"Come on!" Archie gave their section a little shove. "Get up. Come on!"

Warrick held his breath, able to gain a little control over his giggles. The two started down again. They reached the bottom as Nick and Greg came in. The two dashed up the stairs for the next section.

Bobby scouted the way for Warrick and Bobby, and then returned to wait for Nick and Greg. Warrick and Archie trotted back, heading up the stairs, and finding Greg and Nick at the door, stuck. Nick was stuck. He was caught between the section and the door, and laughing so hard his face was red.

"I'm stuck!" Nick laughed at them.

The four used the stair railing and wall and sectional for support. Bobby trotted up the stairs, took one look at the sight, and sat down on the steps from laughing so hard. It took everyone almost a half hour to get control of their laughter, which only started again as Warrick and Greg helped Nick get unstuck and back on the other side of the section. The men got the section through the door and Bobby, Nick and Greg started down the steps. Warrick and Archie unloaded a bright orange recliner from the truck and headed down with it. Greg met them at the door, this time playing scout. Nick and Bobby jogged past them, still infected with giggles, which the other three quickly caught. The men carried the chair into records, then met Greg and the door and hurried back to the stairwell. They suddenly got silent when they heard a voice down the hall, and made a mad dash to the door. Greg grabbed it and pulled against the hydraulics.

"It won't close! It won't close!" Greg said, trying not to laugh.

It set Warrick and Archie off, but Bobby was able to still help Greg. They pulled and straightened, too inebriated to realize they were fighting a mechanical device that was closing the door when it wanted to. Finally the door was closed and the two let go, sitting on the floor. Nick and Bobby came down the steps, both carrying two very hideous side tables and even more hideous lamps.

"What's going on?" Bobby asked.

"SHHHHHH!" the three told him – although it was twice as loud as Bobby had been.

Nick was composed enough he was able to get down the last few steps and go to the window. He looked out it and suddenly ducked.

"What? Who is it?" Warrick asked with giggling grin.

"Grissom! Shhhh." Nick whispered as he tried not to laugh. "He's talking to Robbins at the end of the hall. Be quiet!"

Quiet was harder than it sounded. Drunk and already raging with the case of giggles, the men had a hard time keeping it down. And it was made worse by Nick constantly popping up and down to check on Grissom and Robbins. Finally he stood and leaned as close as he could.

"Is it clear?" Greg laughed.

Nick waited a minute, and then nodded. "I dunno!"

Bobby suddenly fell over from laughing, pressing both hands against his mouth. The other four started laughing with him. If Grissom was around, he didn't hear them because no one came to check on the noise. It took them another half hour to calm this laughing fit. They slipped into the hall and headed to Records. They made their way to the back where the furniture had been collected until they could re-gather. Between fits of laughter, they moved the filing cabinets – with a lot of scraping and 'shhh' involved, and then moved the furniture into the room.

Warrick and Bobby moved the filing cabinets back, grabbed beer from the recently deemed 'cold storage,' and joined the group. With the door closed, they started talking loud as they arranged the furniture, wrote some rules, re-arranged the furniture, drank some more, wrote some rules, re-arranged the furniture some more, wrote a few more rules, drank a lot more, then re-arranged the furniture again until Archie pointed out that it was six in the morning.

They clamored out of the room, snuck back up the stairs, and hailed a cab to go back to Greg's condo. Where they one by one exhaustion and alcohol knocked them out.

#

"Are you aware that you're sleeping in a bathtub?"

Nick opened his eyes. The figure standing before him was blurry at first, and his aching head wasn't making it any better. He blinked.

"Nick… Are you aware that you're sleeping in a bathtub?" The voice sounded familiar, but his brain was still so intoxicated it was having a hard time just telling him his hands weren't floating and his feet weren't sunk into the ceramic of the tub.

"Wha'?" Nick asked.

"Yeah. They're wasted, Grissom. I didn't get any of the other four to wake up," another familiar voice said from behind the blurry figure.

"I think I have a live one here."

"Grissom?" Nick muttered.

"Yes. Nick, are you aware that you're sleeping in a bathtub?"

Nick rubbed his eyes and tried to wet his cotton mouth. The eye rubbing worked, wetting his mouth didn't. He was able to focus on Grissom standing over him. Catherine was behind him and for a moment he thought he was dreaming. She was checking her lipstick and fixing it.

"Are these yours?" Grissom asked.

Nick focused on him, and then the keys dangling from his fingers. He recognized the University of Texas keychain.

"Yeah. Where'd you get those?"

"From the ignition in your pickup that you left parked and wide open behind the police station."

"What? I did?"

"You probably don't remember last night, do you?" Catherine asked. She turned, smiling at him.

"Not really. No."

"Chances are none of you will. I hope you didn't drive the truck over to the police station drunk."

"No."

Nick watched Grissom pocketed his truck keys.

"But… Those are mine," Nick told him.

"I'll keep them for safe keeping until tonight when you come to work."

"Tonight? What do you mean? It's not Sunday."

"Yes it is. Check your watch."

Nick did. Sure enough, 'Sun' showed on the face.

"I'm, uhm…" Nick tried to collect his thought. He looked down at himself, half expecting to be naked. He was wearing his clothes from last night, except for one missing shoe. "I'm missing a shoe."

"It's in the toilet," Catherine told him.

Nick sat up a little, looking in the toilet. Sure enough. That's where his shoe was. He looked up at Grissom as he sank back in the tub.

"I need my keys."

"No. I've confiscated keys from all of you until you get to work. It's safer that way."

"But… We won't drink. We have to work tonight."

"Yes. So you'd better not be late. See you tonight." Grissom turned and left.

Catherine smiled.

"You might want to take a shower, too. You've got something on your face."

"Okay. Thanks."

He watched them leave. He felt he should say something, but he didn't know what. Everything felt surreal. Nick slowly climbed out of the tub and staggered over to the sink. He splashed his face with water and then looked up. Written on his forehead in running lipstick, backwards, and inverted so he could read it: Work. 9pm. Don't be late.

Nick leaned over and scrubbed off the writing. Why had Catherine done that? Nick fished his shoe out of the toilet, and then stumbled down to the living room to wake his co-workers and tell them to go home. They had work tonight. There was a little confusion about the subject, but hearing Grissom and Catherine had been there to check on them convinced them to go home and sleep for their shift.

#

Warrick walked into Grissom's office and knocked on the door. "Any cases?"

Grissom paused, as if he was considering the answer. Instead he coughed a couple of times and looked up. "No. It's been a very quiet night."

"How's the head?" Mandy loudly asked as she walked by Warrick into the office.

He grimaced, watching her walked up to Grissom's death.

Very loudly she told Grissom, "Here are your fingerprints. I have another set running for comparison. Is there anything else you can do for me?"

"What?" Grissom asked. "You'll have to speak up."

Warrick closed his eyes against his hangover headache.

Louder, almost screaming, she repeated, "I said: Here are your fingerprints. I have another set running for comparison. Is there anything else you can do for me?"

"Okay. I'll let you know. Thank you Mandy."

Just as loudly she answered, "You're welcome." She turned and passed Warrick, saying, "See you around, Warrick."

He waited a moment until she was gone, then looked at Grissom.

"Why was she screaming?"

"Who?"

"Mandy."

"She wasn't screaming."

"Are you kidding?"

Grissom smiled. "No. Did _you_ think she was screaming?"

Warrick's brow furrowed. Something odd was happening. He'd sensed it since he came in the building. The guards were talking very loud, or so it seemed. Then Gina was fiddling with a flashlight and kept flashing it in his eyes when he spoke to her, flaring his headache. He kept asking her to stop, but she acted like she didn't know what he was talking about. And now this…

"Bobby volunteered to sterilize tonight. Since you don't have anything to do, would you mind volunteering too? It really is a two man job."

"I guess. Let me know if anything comes up."

"I'll see you later," Grissom said.

Warrick left the office.

Behind him, Grissom waited until he was out of sight to let out the short laugh he'd been holding in.

#

Wendy smile when Greg walked up to her and sat down on the stool next to her.

Without energy he said, "Hey."

"Hey. You look like hell."

"I think I partied too hard. Or maybe I'm getting old. I can't tell."

"Oh."

"Need any help?"

"You want to volunteer to help me?" she asked.

"Yeah. Grissom said there's no call tonight and all the work on my cases is done."

"Well…" She frowned at him. "All I really have is filing."

"Well, what are you working on here?" he asked.

She looked at the test tubes and then him. "Well, I've been working through these DNA samples since yesterday. I really don't want the chain of custody broken."

"Yeah. I can understand that. What filing?"

She turned and pointed. He turned and stared. The counter was full of stacks of case files. He looked up at her. She was smiling sweetly.

"All of that? There has to be a few thousand files there!"

"Do you mind? You did volunteer your time."

Greg looked at the stack, then her sweet smile. He smiled back. "Not at all."

Greg got up and went to work filing the huge stack of folders.

#

Nick passed the conference room and spotted Catherine working her way around a table with stacks of paper laid out. Archie was doing the same. He came back in.

"What's going on?"

"Putting together Citizen's Police packets. Would you mind volunteering a hand? We have to put together two thousand by Monday."

Nick hesitated. "Monday?"

"Yeah."

"You mean in the morning?"

She smiled. "Yeah. What did you think I meant?"

"I feel like I'm off a day too, Nick," Archie commented.

Nick walked in, starting at the first page. "Where did my vacation go?"

"Into a bottle from what I saw this morning," Catherine teased.

"Ha. Ha."

"Catherine," Henry said from the door.

She looked up. "Yeah?"

"Can I talk to you a moment?"

"Sure. Be right back guys."

Catherine left and the two were so focused on their work, they didn't realize she didn't come back.

#

Catherine passed the smallest of the labs. She stopped and turned, staring. The room was full of tall, stainless steel autoclaves – machines that would expose items to steam at a high pressure in order to decontaminate the materials or render them sterile. It was also equipped with several vacuum sealers that would seal items in plastic. Bobby and Warrick were both dressed in sterile hospital gowns and in a system, moving equipment through the autoclaves. Items that didn't need to be sealed were stacked on catering carts so they could be moved to labs more easily.

Catherine's face contorted as she tried to keep her laughter held in. She failed when Grissom sidled up to her, watching them. Catherine covered her mouth, turning away from the room.

"How are our volunteers doing?" Grissom asked with a perfectly straight face.

"Good!" she answered.

He looked at her, smiling. "Good. Why don't you tell your volunteers to meet us in an hour?"

"Sure."

He smiled a little more when she grinned at him.

"You, Gil Grissom, have this evil side that so few people get to see. I feel honored tonight."

"Thank you."

She walked off. Grissom stepped into the steamy room and both men turned to him.

"In an hour, take a break. I thought we could see if there's anything new on The Wall."

The two stared at him.

"What?"

"Are you sure there's no ballistics I need to be processing right now?" Bobby asked.

Grissom frowned at him. "For the thirteenth time, Bobby, no. And before you ask again, Warrick, no. there are no calls or evidence I need you to work on. And thank you both for volunteering to do this."

"You kinda hinted we should, I don't think there was much volunteering," Warrick retorted.

"You can leave if you want. Course, you'll have to help Greg file if you do that."

"No. We're good," Bobby said.

"Okay. See you in an hour."

Grissom closed the door and turned, working very hard to keep from laughing until he was out of sight and earshot.

#

Warrick collapsed on the sectional next to Nick, who was nursing his paper cut hands with ointment. Beside Nick, Archie was doing the same thing. On the other end of the sectional, Greg stared at the wall, apparently mind numbed from filing for six hours. Bobby was sprawled on the square of rug that had mysteriously appeared since last night. In the corner between the couch and chair, a small, much abused, refrigerator had also mysteriously appeared, topped with an ancient microwave. Nick had discovered it worked if you slammed the door, stuck the wooden spatula inside it in the door, and smacked it on the side. It's what he'd used to heat up the hot cloth wrapped around his wrist. Against the opposite side was an old velvet loveseat with a mysterious stain in the middle of it – another mysterious appearance.

They heard people talking as they came near, and then the rest of The Wall crew entered – minus Ecklie. There was a short exchange of friendly chatter as the others settled into the room. The conversation meandered along conversations about cases, a little bit about home life, and some gossip.

Grissom, sitting next to Bobby, turned to him. "You and Warrick finished sanitizing all the lab equipment?"

"Yeah."

"Oh good!" Catherine said, smiling. "That's one less job we'll have to do tomorrow night."

Gina sat down next to Bobby's chair. "I was worried about you when I couldn't reach you. You five must have had quite a night."

Warrick smiled. Nick and Bobby both laughed.

"Where do you think the couch, recliner, and lamps came from?" Archie asked.

"I don't even know where they came from, and I was involved in it," Bobby admitted.

"So you guys were pretty trashed, I take it?" Hodges asked, smirking.

"Yeah. A little."

"You drove drunk?" Wendy asked.

"No!" they answered in unison.

"Well…" Grissom looked at Nick. "Then how'd your truck get here?"

"I left it here. Before we went to Greg's place."

"Why?"

Nick shrugged. "Sounded like a good plan at the time."

"And you intentionally left the keys in the ignition and the doors open?"

Nick frowned. "Ya know… I don't remember. I can't remember."

"You know, guys," Wendy told them. "You're not supposed to be in the building drunk. If Ecklie had caught you he would have fired you on the spot."

"Or suspended you," Hodges pointed out.

"Or written you up," Mandy added.

"Yeah, well, he didn't. Lucky for us."

"Still, it is against policy," Grissom told them.

The five didn't respond. They hadn't expected a public reprimand.

Grissom suddenly started laughing, and the other Wall Crew joined in, so the five did too. There was a rule about answering yes when you didn't know what the question – unfortunately for them there was no rule about not laughing when you didn't know what the joke was about.

"But…" Grissom started. "It worked out in the end. You came here drunk, drove drunk – I actually knew about that because a uniform followed you five all over town to here and told me about it. I should be upset, really, but I figure that I'll let you off the hook since you five gave up your last day of vacation or day off to voluntarily do work around the lab."

The five stopped laughing, even though the others started laughing harder.

"What?" was the unison question.

"Today is Sunday morning," Wendy told them. "Not Monday."

"No!" Nick argued, looking at his watch. "It's Monday!"

"No. It's not," Catherin told him. "I took the liberty of making sure any of your watches that told the day were working when Grissom and I came over to tell you five you were suspended."

"We're suspended?" Archie asked.

"No. You volunteered your day off." Grissom smiled at him.

"I didn't volunteer!" Archie argued.

"Actually…" Catherine walked up to him, smiling smugly at him. "I did ask, 'Archie, there's really nothing I can have you work on right now. Would you volunteer your time to night to put together Citizen Patrol packets?' Remember that conversation."

"You lied to me!"

"I knooooow Archie! Didn't I do a good job, too?"

"I should have known…" Warrick was stunned at how well his co-workers had just shanghaied him and his fellow drinking buddies. He shook his head. "That volunteering thing, the way people kept yelling and acting like they weren't… I should have known something was up!"

"The no cases or evidence to work on should have been my clue," Nick complained.

"I second that thought," Archie complained. "And here I thought the guy on the radio tonight was just off on days. I can't believe this! I cannot believe this. Grissom, you punk'd us! I can't believe Grissom actually punk'd us!"

"I doubt he knows what that means," Greg grumbled.

"Oh, Greg, I know more than you imagine. Just remember, while I do not condone practical jokes to the extent this crew does, that, by no means, makes me incapable of pulling one off."

"I hate everyone I work with," Greg grumbled.

"But look at all the wonderful rules you five left us in your inebriated state," Brass pointed out. "What ones we can actually read."

* * *

**422. If it looks like marijuana there's a 90 chance it is, and a 10 chance it's just a smelly weed. (**_**Nick's handwriting**_**)**

* * *

Greg laughed. "But it looked like weed!"

"It wasn't weed. I told you it wasn't weed, dork," Nick scolded him.

"Yeah, but it _looked_ like weed. That's the key here."

"You really have no clue, do you? Are you sure you're a CSI?"

"Most of the time."

"Perhaps you have your career and your hobby confused …"

* * *

**423. I will not get sidetracked at a crime scene to instigate an impromptu archeological excavation. (**_**Nick's handwriting**_**)**

* * *

"There were bones."

Warrick smacked the back of his head. "It's a crime scene. There's supposed to be bones!"

"Not all crime scenes have bones," Grissom corrected.

"When there's a body, there's bones."

"Inside the body," Greg argued back.

"I give up!" Warrick shook his head. "This is like arguing with a wall."

"Alright, _Miss Green_," Henry taunted Warrick.

* * *

**424. I will not introduce myself to a suspect at "Mister Rogers," "Mister Jones," "Mister Watson," or "Miss Green" – especially if I'm of the opposite sex. (**_**Warrick's handwriting**_**)**

* * *

"Aw! The guy was drunk, stoned, and zooming on uppers. He woulda believed me if I said I was the Easter Bunny."

"So then why did you add it?" Catherine asked.

Warrick looked at the rule, then her. "Cuz, uhm… I was drunk?"

She nodded. "And now the CSI looks a lot like the suspect. Interesting."

"You arrested someone for that?" David asked Nick.

* * *

**425. I am not allowed to arrest someone for "looking like they just robbed a candy store." (**_**Nick's handwriting**_**)**

* * *

Nick plastered a wide grin on his face, looking at someone behind David. Everyone turned, staring at Brass. He smiled.

"Heeeey. What can I say? The guy was grinning like an idiot, he looked like he was doing something wrong, I went with a hunch. I was wrong."

"Brass just admitted he's wrong," Archie told Nick.

Nick looked at Warrick. "Hey, Warrick, Brass just admitted he made a mistake."

"Okay. Alright." Brass told them.

Warrick looked at Greg, "Greg, did you know that Brass—"

"Got it!" Brass told them. "Thank you for clearing that up, boys."

"I'm a man!" Archie retorted.

"That remains to be seen," Mandy jabbed.

"You aren't."

She cupped her breasts, perking them up. "I'm reminded of that daily, thank you very much."

Catherine laughed, smacking Mandy's hands down. "MANDY!"

"Hey look, Grissom, we actually listened to Ecklie. Sort of," Greg told him.

* * *

**426. The paparazzi can only be arrested if they actually **_**break**_** the law. (**_**Greg's handwriting**_**)**

* * *

"Only because she stalked me for the next two months for it," Greg muttered.

Warrick and Nick laughed.

"You can't arrest people, Greg," Ecklie told him.

"She didn't know that… Well… Not until I brought her in and the booking officer said the same thing. In front of her. I thought that was kinda rude, actually. I mean, I am a fellow officer and all."

"You are not a fellow officer."

"I'm close to a fellow officer."

"You're not even close!"

"I'm a distant cousin three times removed to a fellow officer?"

"You're trying my patience is what you are."

"Yeah, well, Bobby lets his sheep drive around town."

* * *

**427. Inflatable sheep must not be seen driving LVPD vehicles. (_Bobby's handwriting)  
_**

* * *

Bobby and Gina both started laughing.

"Care to share?" Catherine asked them.

"You really want us to?" Gina asked back.

"Is it that bad?

"Might be."

"I don't even want to know then." Catherine quickly changed the subject.

* * *

**428. I will not taunt my co-workers on a diet with pancakes or bagels. (**_**Bobby's handwriting**_**)**

* * *

"Who made you think of that one?" Wendy asked.

Bobby pointed at Gina. "And then I had to eat my Brussels sprouts without complaining."

Gina smiled up at him. "Oh poor Bobby."

"I see, Greg and Nick, you've finally listened to my complaints," Grissom said.

* * *

**429. We do not refer to the trip to a long distant crime scenes as "Road trip!" (**_**Nick's handwriting**_**)**

* * *

"I was drunk. That rule doesn't count," Nick retorted.

"Oh, but it does. Unless you can erase it before one of the rest of us sees it, it sticks, Nicky."

"But… We didn't mean it. _He_ didn't mean it." Greg argued.

Grissom smiled at him. "That is a shame.

* * *

**430. Experiment pigs are not to be laid out on the lab tables with apples in their mouths, wearing fake grass skirts, and adorned with flower leis. (**_**Bobby's handwriting**_**)**

* * *

"Bobby!" Mandy said.

He looked up. Grissom was watching him with a stern expression.

"What?"

"So you're the culprit?" he asked.

Bobby looked at the rule, then Grissom. "No."

"Then why did _you_ write it?"

Bobby stared at him so long that Grissom couldn't help but smile. "Do you even remember writing the rule, Bobby?"

"No."

"Do you recall doing that?"

"No. I recall Henry and Hodges doing it."

Grissom turned his head. Hodges was staring at the floor, pulling a string he'd found somewhere. Henry was staring at the wall, acting like he didn't notice.

"Henry? Hodges?"

"Yes?" they asked in unison.

Grissom waited for a response other than that, but it never came.

"The pig, men. Was that your doing?"

"What pig?" Henry asked.

"Yeah. What pig are we talking about?"

Nick snickered. Grissom looked at him. With his face beet red, Grissom could tell he knew more about this prank than either Henry or Hodges.

"You put the pig in there like that, Nick?"

"What pig?"

Catherine shook her head. "Face it, Grissom; these guys are going to hell for all the crap they put us through."

"Mom, Dad, I'm too cute to go to hell," Nick said.

"We are not to be referred to as Mom and Dad, Nick. That's a very old, long standing, rule."

"Right… Mom… Dad…"

Grissom shook his head. "And Warrick will be joining you three."

* * *

**431. I will not advise rookies that chewing menthol rub versus putting it under their nose works best against the smell of decay. (**_**Warrick's handwriting**_**)**

* * *

"Hey, if the rookie is stupid enough to believe me, I can't be blamed for that. I mean, really, he should have had enough common sense not to eat it! What was he? Like five or something?"

"That kid was so sick after that," Hodges laughed. "I thought he was going to kill you, Warrick."

"Again, I cannot be blamed for someone being just stupid."

"And that's my excuse for the next one. Those volunteers shoulda known better."

* * *

**432. We do not tell volunteers to "just give that arm a good yank" when trying to get a week old corpse from a tree or other overhead location. (**_**Nick's handwriting**_**)**

* * *

"Why would civilians who don't know what happens to a corpse, left in the heat, in a tree, know better… Exactly?" Wendy asked.

"Watch the discovery channel?" Nick asked back.

"Read a book," Greg added.

"Ask us instead of believing us," Warrick threw in.

"It's a wonder we even have volunteers with you three!" Wendy scolded. Any seriousness it was meant to have was lost with her smile. "You and Nick acting like he's Billy the Kid!"

* * *

**433. My name is not Wyatt Earp. I cannot outdraw anyone. (_Nick's handwriting_)**

* * *

"Billy was the bad guy. Wyatt was the good guy. Don't be grouping me with bad guys!" Nick retorted. "I'm a good 'ol boy."

They all laughed at his hugely exaggerated comeback.

"What? I am!"

"And I'm Hugh Hefner, complete with five suicide blonde wives," Warrick told him.

"I thought you were Warrick Brown, divorcee?"

Warrick shot him a dark look. "Ya wanna fight about it?"

"Yeah!"

"Alright! We'll fight about it!"

Silence.

And the two friends started laughing.

"That requires moving and that's just too much work now. Raincheck?"

"Sure. Maybe we'll fight about it tomorrow or something."

"You two have been hanging around each other way too long," Henry told them.

"You should see us drunk."

"I did."

"Oh yeah… You should see us drunk with guns in the desert."

"I don't think I want to."

"I don't think I want to know about it," Grissom told them.

"But—"

"Greg are you superstitious?" Catherine asked, derailing the conversation before the two had a chance to make Grissom found out more about them than he needed to.

* * *

**434. Religious ceremonies will not be held for the death of bacteria, arachnids, or black matter. (**_**Greg's handwriting**_**)**

* * *

"Yeah. Why?"

"Greg… Why do you have to find and interesting ways to demonstrate reasons why I have to keep a close eye on you?" Grissom asked him.

Greg looked at the ceiling. Thinking about that.

"Like that? You didn't really do that, did you?" Grissom asked.

* * *

**435. The centrifuge is not to be used to make old fashioned picture movies. (**_**Greg's handwriting**_**)**

* * *

Greg looked from the rule to Grissom. "I cannot tell a lie. Henry did it. Or Mandy. Can't remember which."

"WHAT!?" both cried.

Greg looked at them. "It wasn't me!"

"It was so your idea."

"It was my idea, yeah, but I didn't say we should actually do it."

"You said, and I quote, 'you know that old movie thing with the running horse pictures in a circle, and you spin it, and it looks like the horse runs? We should do that with the centrifuge sometime,'" Henry told him.

"Yeah, but I didn't say we should actually do it. I was merely suggesting.'

"That was no suggestion, Gregory," Mandy argued.

"Did I make you two do it?"

They didn't answer.

"Did I blackmail ya into doing it?"

No answer.

"So then it wasn't my fault Lawrence caught you doing it, was it?"

"Day shift supervisor Lawrence?" Nick asked. "Easy going, never gets mad about anything, Lawrence?"

"Yeah."

"He got mad?"

"Not really," Grissom said. "He told me he suggested that they don't do it again, in case a supervisor that cares caught them."

* * *

**436. The old slide projector is not to be used as a revenge tool. (**_**Archie's handwriting**_**)**

* * *

"Is that how you found out about the slide projector?" Archie asked.

Grissom laughed. "No, Archie. That I saw myself."

"You didn't have to take my iPod away for it."

"Again, iPod or suspension… Your choice."

"I want my iPod back," Archie told him with a pouty lip stuck out.

"In a week."

"A week?" Warrick looked at him. "How long ago was that?"

"Three weeks ago."

"You lost your iPod for a month?"

"Yes!"

"Wow. That's real cruel, Grissom."

Grissom only laughed, shaking his head. "You men have a strange concept of cruel."

"I think our concept of cruel is in line with our overall mentality level," Bobby told him.

"Speak for yourself!" Hodges told him.

Bobby smiled up Hodges. "Say, Grissom, who did rule four hundred and thirty-seven?"

* * *

**437. Replacing the CSI trainer's transparencies with porno transparencies will result in retraining. (**_**Bobby's handwriting**_**)**

* * *

Grissom looked up at Hodges, openly surprised. "That was you?"

"That was you?" echoed around the room.

Hodges shrugged his shoulders, trying to look innocent. "I have no idea what that rule is talking about."

"You switched Darcie's transparencies? You?" Greg asked.

"I don't know what we're talking about."

Nick laughed hard, his head falling back against the couch. "I think I've left my normal dimension and entered the Twilight Zone here! First we're punk'd by Grissom and now Hodges is pulling pranks with porno! This is a great night, even if I was tricked out of my last day of freedom!"

"Hey! I'm capable of pranks!" Hodges told him.

Nick looked at him. "You, Hodges, have very rare moments of cool, but when they hit, they are pretty damned intense! Kinda like a supernova."

Hodges blinked. He looked at Wendy. "Was that a compliment?"

"Yeah, Hodges, that was a compliment."

Before he could drown everyone in his Academy Award winning thank you speech, Grissom told them, "There is a light at the end of the tunnel!"

* * *

**438. Drawing crime scene 'game plans' on the glass walls is forbidden. (**_**Nick's handwriting**_**)**

* * *

"Ya now, Grissom, those game plans are really beneficial. We should use them."

"Not all of us get football diagrams," Mandy got. "Especially those of us that think the sport is for pansies."

"It is not for pansies!"

"It's for pansies!"

"I am not a pansy!"

"You are if you play football with all that stupid padding. Now, if you're a real man, and you play it without the padding, and you get concussions and still keep playing, then you're not a pansy. Like soccer players. Now those are real men."

"I like soccer players too. They sure can bend it," Wendy commented.

"Bet you couldn't get a football player to bend it like that."

"I wouldn't _want_ a football player to bend it like a soccer player!" Nick shot back. "Then they'd be kicking the ball instead of carrying it or tossing it."

"Not that I know much about the sport, or anything," Hodges began, "But—"

"Something you're _not_ a fan of?" Greg gasped.

Henry and Grissom laughed at the inside joke.

Hodges ignored him, continuing his question, "But don't most football games start off with the guys kicking the ball?"

"Yeah? So?"

"You just said you wouldn't want to see them kicking the ball."

"Shut up Hodges!"

"It's okay, Hodges," Mandy said, putting her arm around him, "Nick's just a little sore from all his paper cuts and drinking. He'll be your buddy tomorrow."

"Football is not for pansies."

"And he gets over being insulted about football?" Hodges asked.

"Probably," Catherine answered, smiling when Nick looked up. "And you had better not prank these two for that."

Nick just grinned, nudging Warrick. "We'll plan our attack."

"How?"

"In secret."

"We can't. I apparently was drunk enough I stupidly added secret plans of attack to the list…"

* * *

**439. I will not use the baking powder in the refrigerator to write secret messages in the locker room. (**_**Warrick's handwriting**_**)**

* * *

"WARRICK! How could you!?"

"I was drunk. Everything sounded good at the time. Tofu sounded good at the time."

"Tofu?" David asked.

"Yeah," Greg answered. "We apparently bought tofu sometime last night. I have a dozen or so packages in my refrigerator. I hate tofu… Now that I'm sober."

"I'll take it if you don't want it. My wife and I love it."

"Your wife is an underwear model. She has to love stuff like that," Warrick shot back.

"That's not true."

"Which part?" Wendy asked. "The tofu or the model part?"

"The tofu. She's learning how to cook Japanese and Vietnamese dishes and apparently there's a lot of tofu in them."

"She has you so buffaloed," Henry told him with a smile.

"How so?"

"I cook Japanese and Vietnamese, and there's not that many dishes with tofu. It can be added or replace things, but Jason and I just don't like it. Feels funny in the mouth."

Grissom was the only person that didn't ask, "You cook?"

"My parents insisted I started cooking when I was six to keep me off junk food. That never made sense until I had to raise Jason. But I get it now. If he knows how to cook, he will stay away from junk food. I even wrote a paper about it last semester. And—"

Laying her hand on his shoulder, Mandy quietly told him, "We got it back at the 'My parents…' part. You can stop now."

"You should try his eggs Benedict. He makes an amazing hollandaise sauce," Grissom told them.

Another shock bomb silenced the group.

"You two… You cook together often?" Warrick asked.

"One Saturday a month. He makes lunch, we watch movies, and then Jason and I make supper."

Someone dropping the pen made a loud clatter.

"You are an amazing supervisor Grissom," Hodges told him, "With many strange and peculiar facets to you."

"Thank. I think."

"So since we can't write messages, is that why you added the decipher bit?" Warrick asked Nick.

* * *

**440. I will not use my co-worker's grape juice to decode the secret messages written in the locker room. (**_**Nick's handwriting**_**)**

* * *

"I was drunk. It could be."

"Is that the excuse you're going to use for anything that happened last night?" Catherine asked the five.

In unison, they answered, "Yes."

"It makes sense," Bobby told her. "We were drunk; we can't remember shit, why not?"

"Need we reiterate how lucky you were that Ecklie didn't catch you and we did?" Catherine asked.

"Lucky is a subjective opinion," Archie told her. "And while Grissom made the point quite well up there, we don't feel so lucky."

* * *

**441. Drunk co-workers who visit work off the clock will be subjected to cruel and unusual punishments. (**_**Grissom's handwriting**_**)**

* * *

Grissom stood up, smiling at them. "Perhaps in your next drunken stupor, you'll remember where not to go."

"There won't be another drunken stupor. Not for a long, long, _long_ time," Greg told him.

"Well, at least a year. When we need to change the furniture out," Warrick added.

"Yeah. Maybe in a year. We'll just have to suffer the punishment."

Grissom shook his head. "There's never a dull moment at my job. I have to go back to work. Thank you for your volunteering your help tonight, men." He dug their keys out of his pockets and sat them on the table. "Be safe tonight. Don't do anything I'll regret tomorrow."

"We'll attempt to behave. That's asking a lot," Nick told him.

Grissom left them still chuckling. The five watched and waved as the others left them. They sat in silence for several minutes.

"We need a radio in here. Or something."

Archie smiled. "Well, Nick's truck is here. Let's go see what kind of a radio we can build in the next six hours."

The five jumped up and headed back to the streets to part together a radio for The Wall.


	29. Why You Should Never Trust Your Mouse

29) Why You Should Never Trust Your Mouse  
…_An ode to my trackball -- insert cursing as needed  
_

Grissom and Catherine stood side-by-side, swabbing portions of the four piano wires laid out on the table for skin or trace.

Across the room, Greg and Nick were examining the piano – the rest of the murder scene. The body had been found in a mansion that was for sale, inside the Baby Grand piano, with piano strings wrapped around his neck. Turned out he was the realtor trying to sell the house, and the last time he'd been seen breathing was three hours earlier with a wealthy oil baron who claimed he wasn't interested in the property. Grissom hadn't tried to tell his boys they didn't need to bring it into the lab, that the garage would be just fine, because it had amused him to watch them maneuver it into the lab.

Grissom suddenly felt a presence just over his right shoulder, hovering, watching him work. There was only one lab tech that did that.

"Hodges, whatever it is, just tell me."

Hodges didn't just tell him.

Grissom turned. To his surprised, Archie stood behind him and he looked, well... Pissed. He held a manila evidence bag in his hand that wasn't sealed, but had something in it from the way it bulged. Catherine also turned, staring at Archie.

"I thought you were the protocol king, Grissom," Archie angrily snarled.

Archie's angry accusation made the two pop their heads over the top of the lid, the other from under the piano. Grissom tried not to smile at how they reminded him of prairie dogs each time they'd done that tonight.

"I beg your pardon?" Grissom asked Archie.

"I'm not a CSI or anything, granted, but Grissom, don't you train your CSI look at your evidence really hard?"

"Yes. I d--"

"Grissom," Wendy said from behind Grissom, "what am I supposed to do with this?"

He turned, staring at the bagged keyboard she held out to him. He didn't have any idea why she had a bagged keyboard.

"I did that," Archie told him.

Grissom turned back to ask why, but Archie cut him off.

"Answer me, Grissom," Archie demanded. "Do all of your CSI breeze over trace like this?"

Grissom wasn't angry, even though something said he should be. In fact, he felt a little embarrassed to have Archie accusing him or his CSI of missing evidence. What had he missed? Better to admit ignorance than plead arrogance...

"I'm sorry, Archie, I don't know what did they, or I, have done wrong. You're going to have to tell me."

"The mouse, Grissom!" Archie bellowed.

Grissom blinked. "The... Mouse?"

Archie frowned, shoving the envelope against Grissom's chest. "Yes! The mouse and the keyboard should be processed for trace!"

"What case is this for?" Grissom took the envelope. He opened the top, staring at the computer mouse at the bottom of the bag.

"That one." Archie pointed at the Baby Grand.

Grissom looked at the piano, then Archie. "I'm still confused."

"When Laurel and Hardy over there brought me the computer from realtor's office they didn't even bother to bag the keyboard or mouse. They probably contaminated the evidence."

"We never bring you the keyboard and mouse bagged."

"Well start!" Archie ordered, and then headed for the door. "Doesn't anyone keep up with the trade journals around here? Good God!"

Archie disappeared into the hall continuing to rant.

"Grissom?" Nick asked.

"Yes, Nick?"

"What just happened?"

"I think we're in trouble for overlooking evidence."

"His grandmother died this morning," Wendy told them.

Catherine and Grissom both turned to look at her.

"I guess he's not handling it so well," Wendy added. "I'll go talk to him."

"I'll handle it," Grissom said, holding the swabs in his hand out to Catherine.

"How about you let me handle it Grissom?" Catherine held out her swabs to him.

Grissom shook his head. "I need you to finish these strings, Catherine. I'll talk to him."

"I can talk to him," Greg offered. "He called me this morning when he found out."

Grissom sat his swabs down and then headed for the door. "Thank you, Greg, but you have to finish the piano. I'll talk to him."

Grissom headed for the door.

"You're not going to fire him over this, are you?" Nick asked.

Grissom stopped in his tracks and then turned. The four stared at him and each looked very worried. He realized they hadn't forgotten his reaction to Henry's behavior when his parents had been killed. It disturbed him that they didn't believe he'd learned a few things since then and was capable of handling a lab tech in emotional distress better.

"No, I'm not firing him. If I need help, I'll call one of you. Get back to work."

Grissom walked out of the lab, in search of Archie, who had disappeared since confronting Grissom.

#

Grissom stood at the plain, dented, scratched, old, overstuffed filing cabinet, staring at the door to The Wall, and listening to the person inside crying. He was certain it was Archie. It made sense too. This was a sensible place to disappear, a safe haven.

But now that the moment to talk to Archie about his grief was upon him, Grissom was questioning if he really could face the crying lab tech. In fact, he wasn't real sure how to deal with this alien situation.

With determination, Grissom decided he was going to deal with this, figure out how to help Archie, and he hoped the white magic of The Wall would be there to help him decide what Archie needed to hear tonight.

Grissom reached for the door handle as he slipped between the wall and filing cabinet. He slowly came around the door, finding Archie curled up at the end of the couch with his face pressed against the back of the couch. Grissom walked over and sat down on the opposite end. Archie tried to stop his crying, which only made it worse. Grissom kept his eyes on the floor, not speaking. He didn't want Archie to know how uncomfortable seeing Archie cry made him.

Archie got up suddenly and took one step toward the door.

"I'm sorry to hear about your grandmother."

Archie froze. Grissom looked up at his back.

"Is she the first relative you've lost?"

Archie nodded.

"It's always hard to lose a relative the first time. Anyone who says different either hasn't lost anyone they cared about or is lying."

Archie walked over to the recliner and sat down on the edge.

"You could have called in for bereavement, Archie."

Archie's face clouded and Grissom realized he'd said the wrong thing. He thought quick, trying to figure out a way to salvage the moment that had just been there.

"Can you please tell me what evidence I missed in the keyboard and the mouse?"

Archie sighed, sitting back. "Probably nothing. I'm just the A/V guy."

"If you think I've missed evidence, I need to know about it. I'd rather be safe than sorry."

"We've never collected evidence from either before, so it doesn't matter. I was just being stupid."

"Am I going to have to beg for an answer?"

Archie almost smiled, so Grissom smiled in response when Archie looked up at him.

"There might be skin and hair under the keys. And those track balls roll on ball bearings and they're notorious for collecting gunk. If anyone touched the guy's keyboard or mouse, there might be something there."

Grissom thought about the answer. "I've collected evidence from keyboards before, but not from a mouse. I guess since most people have gone to laser mice, we've gotten out of the habit, haven't we?"

"Even those have some sometimes. The pads they move around on can collect gunk too. And up in that hole where the laser eye is, hair can get caught in there. It annoys me when it does because then the mouse jumps and skips all over the place."

"And you read this in a journal?"

Archie nodded.

"I appreciate you keeping up on techniques for us. We'll look at both."

Archie nodded again, looking at the floor. Grissom sat back in the couch, looking around the room. The old metal table had parts of a half built electronic device. The velvet couch had disappeared and was replaced with a settee with a gaudy floral pattern. A small TV sat on a TV stand that looked like it might give out at any moment. His eyes traveled to the wall.

"It's been a while since I've had a chance to come down here. You all have been very busy with the rules, I see."

Archie chuckled. "Yeah. We have."

* * *

**442. Although I have a limp, I am not a cranky, drug-addicted, genius doctor who can cure anyone. (_Robbin's handwriting_)**

* * *

"When Greg and Nick call him House, he gets in a bad mood," Archie told Grissom.

"Yes. I've been there for a few of his outbursts. I can't say I understand this next one."

* * *

**443. I am not Malcolm Reynolds. My Denali is not named Serenity. My co-workers are not smugglers of questionable morals and impaired judgment. I should refrain from speaking Chinese while cursing. (_Greg's handwriting_)**

* * *

"It's a television show that used to be on. Greg loves the show, he's still mad that it was canceled."

"I was wondering when Warrick was going to get in trouble for picking on short people," Grissom laughed.

* * *

**444. ****I am not allowed to annoy my shorter coworkers by walking up to them and poking them while saying, "Poke" in obnoxious voices. **_**Submitted by CSIfreak24 and a friend**_** (**_**Nick's handwriting**_**)**

* * *

"Mandy was overjoyed when Nick wrote that. Warrick is always giving her shit about being short."

Grissom smiled. He watched Archie slide back in the recliner and mentally gave a nod to the room. Its therapy was at work again, and it always awed him how powerful it was.

"Weren't you a part of that rule?" Archie asked.

* * *

**445. The death of a quartet does not require a quartet to come to the morgue to serenade during autopsy. (_Robbins' handwriting_)**

* * *

"Me? No. I only heard about it and Robbins was about ready to ask for them to be fired."

Archie laughed. He leaned forward, pulling his legs up to hug them.

"I guess Greg, Nick, Hodges, and that new guy were pretty awful. David asked me if it were physically possible for people who sang bad enough to break glass."

"And you said?"

"I don't know. Do you?"

"I don't suspect it is, but I've never conducted an experiment to find out."

"Guess we'll have to try it some time." Archie gave him a series nod. "In case we ever need to know for a case."

Grissom chuckled, making Archie smile.

"Were you close to your grandmother?" Grissom asked.

Archie nodded, resting his chin on his knees. "She and my mom raised me after my dad was killed. She even moved out here so she could help. Hated Nevada too. It was too hot for her. Kinda wish she'd died in Hawaii. She loved Hawaii."

"Is that where you're from?"

"No. That's where she and my mom were from. My mom moved to Los Angeles when she was nineteen." Archie started tearing up again. "I miss Nana."

"If you don't mind my asking, how did she die?"

"Old age." Archie thought about his answer, and then looked up at Grissom. "After all the violent deaths I see come through here, all the horrible way people can die, it's strange to see someone die of old age. She looked so peaceful."

"You were with her when she passed?"

"No. Mom was. I wish I had been."

Grissom looked away. He didn't want to tell Archie he was glad he hadn't been. "What's with the wet floor signs?"

* * *

**446. ****I will not move, nor relocate, 'wet floor' signs to test my co-workers mental integrity and balance. **_**Submitted by CSIfreak24 and a friend**_** (**_**Hodges' handwriting**_**)**

* * *

Archie didn't answer. Grissom turned his head, finding Archie staring at him.

"Everyone keeps moving the wet floor signs to pick on Hodges," Archie answered. "You don't think I should have been there when she died?"

"Why do they keep moving them? And it's not as peaceful as you think."

"It's Hodges. Do you have to ask why anyone does anything to pick on him? Why isn't it peaceful? She looked peaceful when I got there."

Grissom considered both questions at the same time. He nodded. "I guess, since it is Hodges we're talking about, I can see where everyone finds humor in that. It's a very strange thing to be in the room when someone dies naturally."

"Strange how?"

"I can't explain it, Archie. All I can remember is that there was this strange sense of peace followed by an overwhelming feeling that the world suddenly became chaos. It was very strange."

"Who was it?"

"My mother."

Archie nodded. He looked at the floor, probably thinking about Grissom's answer. Grissom turned back to the rules.

"Why do you think Greg has a strange attraction to animals that want to harm him?" Grissom asked.

* * *

**447. Never try to capture an animal that can jump higher than you can. (_Greg's handwriting_)**

* * *

Archie laughed. "The kangaroo story. Have you heard the kangaroo story?"

"I think I might have been gone during this story."

Archie laughed, retelling the story. "A dead guy was found in a car of kangaroos that were being traded between zoos. So Greg gets there and the handler swore up and down that the kangaroo was sedated and they could go in to start collecting evidence."

"They?"

"David was with him. They're busy working, and the handler suddenly grabs David and practically throws him out o the door. He gets a hold of Greg and starts for the door. This kangaroo jumps right over their heads and grabs the handler. Starts beating him up. Greg made a bee line for the door as another handler comes in and starts shooting darts. Greg said he and David refused to go back in until the kangaroos were relocated after that. Yeah, I don't get Greg's animal attraction either. Maybe you should stop giving him animal calls?"

Grissom smiled. "It's too amusing. I don't think I'll stop."

Archie grinned. "Sometimes, Doctor Gil Grissom, you pleasantly surprise me. You have this mean streak in you that shows up every so often and it's hilarious."

"If that's a compliment, thank you. Why don't I know why Henry wrote that?"

* * *

**448. While monitoring the burn pit, I may not invite my significant other for a 'romantic evening by the fire.' (_Henry's handwriting_)**

* * *

Archie laughed, falling against the back of the chair. "You don't know what your star pupil did?"

Grissom chuckled. He could tell this was going to be good. "No. Enlighten me, Archie. What am I glad I didn't catch him doing?"

"You know he's gotta girl, right? Some thing he picked up at college."

"I knew he had a girlfriend, yes."

"The last week of last month, when it was his turn to monitor the burn pit, he snuck her in through the back gate so they could enjoy a romantic evening. Catherine caught them. Haven't you noticed how cool she's been toward him?"

"I can't say I had. But apparently she wasn't mad enough to tell me, so he'll be off the hook soon."

"I wonder why she's never gotten upset when he's snuck Jason in."

"Jason is a special case. I think she sees a CSI in Jason."

"Do you?"

"I see a child that is very smart and whose brother wants Jason to be whatever he wants to be. I don't believe pushing a child in any direction before they're ready."

"But he sure seems to like what you guys do."

"Yes. He does."

"He's even told me he's going to be a CSI like you."

Grissom smiled, hoping he hid his pride behind it. Secretly, he hoped that one day he would be training Jason as his protégé.

"Children look up to adults they're around a lot. It's normal."

"Yeah. I guess. He says he wants to learn all the stuff I know too. Course with that big brain of his he could learn both with room to spare."

Grissom laughed. "Indeed." He looked up at the rules, shaking his head. "What am I going to do with Nicky?"

* * *

**449. Plotting a crime scene out with football symbols and terms is bad. (_Catherine's handwriting_)**

* * *

"He argues it's easier to use football symbology and doesn't clutter up the diagrams."

"Do you agree?"

"Maybe if I could read it."

Grissom nodded. "I feel the same way. Apparently Catherine does too. I see Ecklie has heard Warrick and Nick's latest news bites."

* * *

**450. I will not retort to annoying journalists, "No comment. Not even how bad in bed you were!" (_Ecklie's handwriting_)**

**451. I will not convince urbanites that "the farm animals have taken over the farm and we must flee for our lives!" (_Ecklie's handwriting_)**

* * *

"Warrick does it just to piss off Ecklie, you know."

"And what's Nick's excuse?"

"Hmm... The left side and right side fail to communicate."

"Meaning?"

"Oh, you know, the logical side that would normally tell him to shut up doesn't get to the emotional side before it blurts out the stupidest thing at the worst possible times."

Grissom smiled. "I'm fairly certain that's not how Nick's or anyone else's brain works."

"We may never know. Nick may die an enigma even to himself."

Grissom chuckled. "I certainly hope not too much of an enigma. I need him to solve cases."

Archie grinned. "Did you know Warrick did that?"

* * *

**452. Experiment pigs are not to be put in a dress to serve as dance partners. (_Nick's handwriting_)**

* * *

"He tried to blame it on the drugs," Grissom told Ecklie.

"He was on drugs when he did that?"

"Doubtful. And when I told him that would mean he was fired, he tried to say he was drunk. When that only offered suspension, he tried claiming blackmail. Catherine finally told him to just give it up; we all know he was being goofy. It was actually amusing."

"The dressed up pig or Warrick being goofy?"

"Both. Is this you he's talking about?"

* * *

**453. If caught playing an online game on the clock, the best thing to say isn't, "If you don't write me up, I'll build you a killer character." (_Ecklie's handwriting_)**

* * *

Archie's face darkened in color as he smiled and said, "No."

"Archie."

"It _would_ have been a killer character," Archie told him. "And then he wrote me up for it. That man needs to lighten up."

"I'm afraid as a supervisor fun isn't really an option for us."

"You have fun."

"I would have written you up."

"Ugh! You all suck!"

Grissom laughed. "And who did this?"

* * *

**454. Laptops are not to be used to stop runaway suspects. (_Ecklie's handwriting_)**

* * *

"Warrick."

"Warrick?"

"He said it was the nearest item he had that could stop the fleeing suspect. He tossed it, hit him in the head, and caught the guy. The laptop was toast when he brought it to me. And he tries to convince me that he didn't throw it, but little did he know that the store camera was running and I saw the whole thing."

Grissom chuckled. "Nick and Greg here?"

* * *

**455. ****I am not allowed to tell suspects, victims, or witness, "My friend wants to know if you are single." **_**Submitted by CSIfreak24 and a friend**_** (**_**Catherine's handwriting**_**)**

* * *

"Their argument is that's the only time they meet women because they have such a heavy work load. I think Catherine offered to get them time off, unpaid, with a nice little note in their folder if they did it again."

"I can't turn my back for a minute on those two."

"Greg said you were amused by this one. Were you?"

**456. If my supervisor asks, "Where were you?" the answer should be simple and to the point. Not something like: "First I had to stop in the Cretaceous period for a few T bones, then I checked in on Galileo to see how the stars were coming, next I had a chat with Joan of Arc – she's badass! – and before coming here, I had tea with Queen Mary the first." (_Catherine's handwriting_)**

"I was amused. He can be extremely creative with his reasons for tardiness."

"And most of them untrue."

"True."

Archie laughed. "I didn't think Warrick could get much darker until he came back from that arson scene."

* * *

**457. When the fire marshal tells you not to touch anything, take him seriously. (_Warrick's handwriting_)**

* * *

"He looked at me," Grissom began, "Had the most innocent look on his face, and tells me, 'Grissom, all I did was lean on a beam. Just a beam. I didn't think the marshal meant _everything_. And the entire balcony collapsed, covered me and everything else in soot. I swear to you, Grissom, I swear I didn't know it was going to collapse. It just... Fell down.' He was covered from head to toe in soot."

"Maybe superhero Bobby should have come to his rescue."

* * *

**458. I am not Superman. I may not wear a red cape and blue tights. (_Bobby's handwriting_)**

* * *

"Last Sunday, when you and Catherine were off, Bobby was dressed in red and blue. Everyone was teasing him about impersonating Superman."

"Did he have a cape?"

"Not when the shift began."

Grissom laughed. "I miss all the really good stuff on my days off."

"Like Nick's monitoring the burn pit."

* * *

**459. Filling a water pistol with lighter fluid and spelling things while monitoring the burn pit is bad. (_Nick's handwriting_)**

* * *

"He didn't. Did he?"

"He did. Ecklie was on his way home and noticed it kept flaring up. He went over and Nick didn't get the pistol hid fast enough. Then Ecklie, like an idiot, threw the whole gun into the fire."

"Oh... That was the little explosion I heard about. No one could tell me what exactly happened."

"He and Nick got into this huge fight over him writing Nick up, or planning on it. I mean, after all, Nick didn't throw it in the fire, just had it in his possession. To which Ecklie argues that possession is nine-tenths the law. But in the end, he bribed him out of it by buying him breakfast if he would just forget it happened altogether. Nick is far more conniving than anyone gives him credit for."

"I'm pretty sure it's the accent that throws people." Grissom chuckled. "So Greg thinks he's Shaggy. Again."

* * *

**460. I am not Shaggy, my partner is not Scooby-doo, and we do not have Scooby snacks. (**_**Greg's handwriting**_**)**

* * *

"Yeah, and Nick wasn't too crazy about being Scooby or that Greg expected him to have Scooby snacks."

"Which case?"

"I'm not sure it was a case. Well, not a real one anyway. Those two have these crazy notions of creating a crime scene to attract girls."

"Does it work?"

"Sometimes. I hate it though, because somehow I always end up being the suspect. Henry get's to be the dead victim. Warrick doesn't seem to mind being the coroner."

"You four need more hobbies, I think."

"What? It's fun!"

"And probably illegal."

"In which state?"

"This one."

"Naw! Can't be. Can it be? How illegal is it playing a dead person?"

Grissom shook his head. "Ecklie's finally caught on to what's really being said in front of him."

* * *

**461. ****Vulgar insults are not to be said in the workplace or crime scenes, despite the fact they are said in obscure, dead, or non-existent languages. **_**Submitted by CSIfreak24 and a friend**_** (**_**Ecklie's handwriting**_**)**

* * *

"He just had to learn Spanish and Japanese didn't he?"

"The Under Sherriff recommended he learn two languages if he wanted to be promoted. He listens to everything that man says."

"That's dangerous."

Grissom nodded. "Yes. I think so too."

"You know, I don't trust that man. He seems... Shifty. He smiles and I just get the chills. Like he's hiding some big secret that you really don't want to know."

"I can't say I trust him either."

"Does he get all over you about stuff?"

"Sometimes. What's with the plate?"

* * *

**462. Laptops do not double as plates. (_Nick's handwriting_)**

* * *

"Yeah, well, Nick apparently uses his to eat off of. And he tried his damndest to convince me that he didn't know how the pizza sauce got in the keyboard."

"Didn't believe him, I take it?"

"Not even if he'd sworn on his mother's life."

"Well, he is the one who seems gullible enough to believe fraculators and ray guns exist."

* * *

**463. Ray guns do not exist. (_Nick's handwriting_)**

* * *

"You have to wonder if he wasn't actually blond at some point. He gets that deer in headlights look, stares at you for a minute, then asks, 'what do you mean that doesn't exist?' I want to just throw up my hands and walk away every time he does that to me."

"That's not bad."

"You don't think so?"

"No. What's bad is when you're talking to him about something important, he suddenly goes on some mental trip away from the conversation and you don't know it, then he suddenly snaps back and asks you, mid sentence usually, 'Wait. What were we talking about?' That's annoying."

Archie was in a fit of giggles before Grissom finished. "Or how about when you're after him about something and he gets this total blank look on his face, then asks, 'What was the question again?' When he does that, I just want to slap him!"

Grissom laughed. "But we don't, because without our Nicky moments the graveyard would be so dull. And apparently Warrick is tired of tomorrow."

* * *

**464. We do not need to hear your various renditions of "Tomorrow" when the sun starts rising over an outdoor crime scene. (_Warrick's handwriting_)**

* * *

"He probably wouldn't be if Greg and Nick could actually carry a tune and didn't scare everyone on the scene when they bust out in a chorus."

"I remember they did that at a scene at Lake Mead last fall. The scene had been quite for a few hours, the sun was just coming up, and there was a flock of geese on the lake nearby. Suddenly those two burst out signing it and scared the geese. I think the geese were asleep before they scared them because they couldn't seem to decide which direction to fly for a few minutes. Two of them crash landed near Nick and bit him."

"Geese can bite?"

"Not in the sense they have teeth, but they can leave a good welt. He favored that side of his buttocks the rest of the morning."

Archie giggled again. "I would have loved to have seen that!"

* * *

**465. We do not tell rookies that toads are important witnesses and should be held closely while transporting them to the lab.** **(_Greg's handwriting_)**

**466. Mannequins do not need to be questioned, do not need to be read their Miranda rights, are not considered corpses, should not be brought to the morgue for an autopsy, and will not be counted as a disabled but credible witness. (_Greg's handwriting_)**

* * *

"Why does he seem to like questioning creatures and inanimate objects?" Archie asked.

"Greg has some deep rooted superstitious beliefs passed down from his Scandanavian relatives."

"Seriously?"

"Yes. Unfortunately."

"Wow... I never knew that about him."

"There are times I wonder how much of them he actually believes, and how much of his beliefs he pretends to believe just to see if I'll question him."

"How often do you question him?"

"Every time."

"So... Wait... How does that work for him?"

"I never said he's considered I won't _not_ ask."

"My head hurts. Moving on."

* * *

**467. ****When my boss is assigning cases, I am not allowed to yell "COMMUNIST!" if I do not get the case I wanted. **_**Submitted by CSIfreak24 and a friend**_** (**_**Nick's handwriting**_**)**

* * *

Archie laughed. "I heard that clear across the lab that day."

"Everyone heard it. I wasn't sure what I was more stunned by: the volume or the word. And then to see that grin on his face... I'm going to grow old before my time, Archie. You guys are going to put me in my grave."

"Me? What did I do?"

* * *

**468. Lab mice and rats are not to be carried around the lab in your hair. (_Catherine's handwriting_)**

* * *

"And don't deny it either," Grissom said.

"I don't deny or admit to anything. All I know is Bruno is a very reliable mouse. We have in depth conversations about various things. He's an excellent listener, you know."

"Bruno?"

"Yes. He's safe now. I kidnapped him and took him home."

"How did you kidnap the mouse Ecklie told you that you could keep?"

"Well... I told Bruno I was kidnapping him. He doesn't know any better."

"I see. And does Bruno watch any of these shows with you?"

* * *

**469. More shows no longer allowed to be quoted: The Simpsons, American Dad, Family Guy, Grey's Anatomy, House, anything on the Cartoon Network, Hannah Montana, That's So Raven, Little House on the Prairie, Knight Rider, and Supernatural. (_Catherine's handwriting_)**

* * *

"A couple, but I only quote them in extreme moments when it's important to quote them and nothing else comes to mind."

"So, basically, when you don't have anything original and witty to say?"

"I guess... Maybe... Yeah."

"Was Greg trying to get himself killed?"

* * *

**470. If a car is driving straight at me, I will not take on an Iron Man pose and screech, "HALT!"** **(_Greg's handwriting_)**

* * *

Archie nodded.

"I'm about to forbid him from seeing any action movies while he's employed with us. He gets these crazy ideas in his head that he should behave like the characters."

"That's not the movies, Grissom, that's the coffee. Take away his coffee; he'll go back to mostly normal."

"Mostly?"

"I don't think he was born normal."

"I suspect this as well. And yet another sound bite Ecklie probably didn't want to hear."

* * *

**471. ****I am not allowed to tell any member of the press that Ecklie's head is shiny due to his state funded, unlimited supply of Turtle Wax. **_**Inspired by CSIfreak24 and a friend**_** (**_**Ecklie's handwriting**_**)**

* * *

"But David was only being nice."

"_David_ said that?"

"Well, not that exactly, but there was the implication."

Grissom chuckled. "Wow. This crew knows how to press buttons."

"We try where we can."

Grissom stood and stretched, "I'd better go see if Nick and Greg have dismantled the piano or the lab yet."

He looked down at Archie. The lab tech was staring at a rule on the nearby wall, smiling from some memory it brought on.

"Archie, if you need bereavement leave, just tell me. I'll fill out the paper work and submit it tonight."

Archie looked up at him. "Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"Thank you Grissom."

"You're welcome. I'll see you next Sunday, okay?"

Archie nodded. Grissom walked out of the room.

#

"Wendy," Grissom said, appearing at her side.

"Did you find him?"

"Yes. I want you to pull the keys off the keyboard and collect trace. Also swab the inside of the mouse for trace and DNA."

"Do you think there will be some there?"

"I trust Archie's instincts on this one. I think so. Let me know."

"Sure."

Grissom returned her smile as he turned to leave.


	30. A Time To Laugh

30) A Time To Laugh-+-

_Sorry for two sober chapters in a row, but gotta send Warrick out with a laugh._

"She's hot, Warrick," Nick said, smiling.

Across the bar, the girl he referred to was flirting with Warrick with her pretty smile. Warrick smiled back, but since Nick had been trying to encourage him to talk to her for the last fifteen minutes, he knew Warrick wouldn't take the chance.

"Go ask her to dance," Nick told him.

"Man! Back off! I'm not asking her out or to dance."

"Do you know how to dance?"

"_YES_!"

The two stared at each other. Warrick suddenly grabbed his jacket and stormed off. Nick watched him disappear in the crowd, and then looked at the girl. She was watching someone or something else. He considered his options – she really was hot. Nick headed toward her table.

#

Warrick looked at his apartment door when someone knocked. He paused the football game he was watching and got up. What he found standing in the hall made him want to pummel the rookie. He knew Warrick was interested in this woman, and yet he moved in on her, behind Warrick's back.

"This is Katrina," Nick said. "And you are not going to believe this, but she's a dance instructor."

"I don't believe it." Warrick retorted. His voice was strained with his anger.

"See? I told you he'd say that," Nick told Katrina.

"Well, I do only I teach ballet," Katrina told Warrick.

Warrick leaned on the door. "What are you two doing here?"

"Well, I told Katrina you don't know how to dance and she's offered to give you lessons."

Warrick's anger was not fading. "I know how to dance."

"I told you he'd say that," Nick said to her, then to Warrick, "I told her you'd be interested in learning. So..." Nick duck two hundreds out of his pocket, grabbed Warrick's hand, and slapped the bills in them. "Why don't you two go have some dinner and she can see where she could help you. It's not like a _date_ or anything."

Warrick stared at him. What was Nick up to? He'd only know the man for six months and so far he'd been fairly predictable. Warrick couldn't predict what Nick was trying to do now.

"I know a good place to go," Katrina offered. "Not the best food, but they have a great dance floor. There won't be too many people there this time of day."

Warrick looked at her, then the money in his hand. He handed the money back to Nick.

"I've got the dinner covered. Thanks for the offer though. Let me grab my wallet and keys."

"Great. Well, I'm off. You two have a fun night."

"You're not going?" Warrick asked.

Nick had already started down the hall to the building exit. He turned, smiling. "Nope. Gotta date. See you two later."

#

Nick looked at Warrick when he sat down on the bench next to him and leaned in.

"Did you know ballerinas are way limber?" Warrick whispered.

Nick almost snorted and then giggled. Warrick smiled.

"Just how limber, Warrick?"

"Really limber."

Nick nodded. "So the private lesson was worth it?"

"Oh yeah. Might have another one Friday."

"Good. Glad to hear it."

"Why did you do that, Nick?"

"Do what?"

"You thought she was hot. You could have just moved in on her. I've seen you work your charm on women. Why didn't you?"

Nick looked shocked, and then answered, "Because you liked her, and you're my friend. I wouldn't ever do that to you, man. Never."

Warrick nodded. "Male bonding over. Tell me about our case, rookie."

With a short laugh, Nick changed the subject to the evidence.

* * *

Nick opened his eyes. The harder he tried to hold on to the memory that had slipped into his dream, the faster it slipped away. He closed his eyes, trying harder. He didn't want to lose those memories.

"If it wasn't too personal, I'd like to know what you were dreaming," he heard Grissom's voice say. Was that a dream too?

Nick opened his eyes. A movement caught his attention and he looked toward it. Grissom was sitting in the recliner, staring at the wall. Nick looked away. He'd come to The Wall to hide and be alone.

"I was remembering something. It was a long time ago," Nick admitted.

"About Warrick?"

"Yeah."

"I find myself doing that often. We have a lot to chose from, don't we?"

Nick closed his eyes. He was tired. The hours he'd been keeping were wearing him down, but he didn't even have enough energy to care. And his job had fallen to some internal autonomic function – half the time he'd leave the shift with no idea what he'd done or accomplished that night. He left the interrogations to everyone else because he couldn't confront anyone – not in a way that wouldn't get him fired, anyway.

"There's a memorial in Warrick's locker. Did you know that?" Grissom paused, adding quietly. "I just found out and it's been there for five days."

"Yes," Nick softly answered. He suddenly started talking. It was as if he had to tell Grissom this story, even though there was no relevance to it. "Last year, me and him had three days off at the same time – I think that was someone's mistake, probably yours, huh? – and so he suggested we go to the Hoover Dam. I told him I wasn't interested in a dam, but he insisted. So we got in that wreck of his and headed down there. We get there, and he just kept driving. Said we were going to see the Grand Canyon. We get there, and he kept driving. Said it wasn't interesting and decided to go home. But I didn't mind, ya know? I hadn't gone on a road trip for a long time and we talked and laughed, and once even got in a fight over how to fix the car so it would run after it stopped the fourth time. We were so tired when we got back and had to be to work in two hours. That was the night we traded Sara that call out at Indian Springs. He slept on the way there; I slept on the way back. It was like the road trip never ended."

It felt like hours passed before either of them spoke.

"I was looking for you, Nick," Grissom told him, "and I went by your place. There are newspapers there from last week, the day he was killed. When was the last time you were home? You've been wearing the same clothes for days."

Nick closed his eyes. He couldn't remember. Everything had a strange fuzzy, detached feeling to it. Like he was a participant in life without actually being in it.

"I don't know," Nick answered.

"I miss him too, Nick."

He waited for Grissom to add the 'but' part, to tell him he had to get over it, or move on, or something crass. It never came.

Nick sat up, but pulled his legs up, taking up as little space as possible. It was the only way he seemed to feel comfortable these days.

Nick heard the door open and looked up. Catherine walked in and sat down next to Nick.

"Thought I'd find you two down here."

"Shouldn't you be asleep?" Nick asked.

"I can't sleep. Sara's coming. She stopped to get us coffee."

They didn't talk, as if they couldn't speak until she was there. And when Sara arrived, she brought coffee and the rest of the crew. Cups were passed out and the group silently sat around the room.

"Did Warrick add all those rules?" Mandy asked.

All eyes turned to the wall.

Grissom smiled, softly answering, "Yes. He said while he was sitting around waiting for them to realize he was innocent, he had a lot of time to come up with new rules. He told me that thinking about here, about writing them, imagining the chalk on the bricks, kept him calm. Maybe I should have..."

No one asked what the unfinished sentence was. No one wanted to know, if they didn't already guess it.

Gina smiled, reading the first rule, "**471. I am not allowed to tell any member of the press that Ecklie's head is shiny due to his state funded unlimited supply of Turtle Wax. (**_**Inspired by CsiFREAK24 and a friend**_**)**"

Even Ecklie chuckled a little at the rule. He read the next one. "**472. This is not the Buy More. We do not have a 'Cage of Death' to settle employee disputes.** I don't really get that one."

"It's a television show," Archie told him. "The main guy had this super computer downloaded in his head and he's become a pseudo-spy. He must have overheard us lab rats joking about needing a Cage of Death in the basement."

"And what is that?"

"Do you really want to know?" Hodges asked.

Ecklie thought about it for a moment. "No. I don't."

"Hey. Look. He listened to me, for once," Hodges said a little too excitedly. "**473. Laptops are not to be used to test how far the ground is – even if they are slow, archaic, and still running Windows 95.**"

"Oh come on," Greg argued. "Those old things aren't good for much else and you know it, Archie."

"They make good paperweights," Mandy argued.

"And door stops," Gina piped up.

"They are company property and should be treated as such," Ecklie said in Archie's defense.

That made all most of the CSI and lab rats laugh.

"If that's your argument, Conrad, then expect them broken every time," Catherine told her.

"Why do I even bother?"

Gina leaned on him, smiling up at him. "Because you love us and we're cute."

"Some of you, maybe."

They booed him.

"We have new meanings to our acronym," Mandy said, reading the next rule, "**474. Revisit: We are CSI; this does not stand for 'Criminally Sexy Investigator' or 'Commonly Stupid Idiot.' (first one **_**submitted by csivhp**_**)**"

"That is not what CSI stands for," Grissom argued.

"And yet, he says this every time it's been put up there, as if the choir is actually listening or some strange thing the like."

"It's wishful think," Mandy said. "No one ever said our supervisors fell short of wishful thinking. It radiates from them."

Grissom asked, "What exactly does **475. "I'm here to kick ass and chew bubble gum, and I'm all out of bubble gum," is not to be said upon arriving at a 'walking wounded' crime scene** mean? Do I want to know?"

In unison the men (minus Ecklie) answered, "They Live."

"Movie?" Grissom asked Catherine.

She nodded.

"He could quote that movie," Hodges went on. "Which is sad, considering how bad it is."

"It's not sad when you're drunk and the friends your hanging out with are drunk too." Greg pointed out.

"A lot of movies aren't bad then, even the really offensive ones."

"True," Greg and Nick answered.

"Wow. I think we've left normal and entered some really weird group-think place," Mandy said.

And as if on queue, the men faked laughter, and made the rest of them laugh for real.

Okay, okay, moving on." Catherine said and then read the next rule, "**476. We do not compare our suspects, witness, or victims to farm animals.** Why does this sound like the beginning of a really bad sex joke?"

"Naw. It wasn't," Greg told her. "See, at this crime scene there was this really tall, gangly guy with a really long neck. And then this little, squatty guy that snorted when he laughed. And this other guy with a really long face that slightly resembled a horse's face. So Warrick says to me 'Did we just step into Animal Farm? Have the animals started looking more human or the humans started looking more like animals?' They heard us and the fight was on – he yelled, they yelled, we all yelled. The officer broke it up. Good times. Good times."

The group stared at him.

"What?"

"You're story telling skills suck tonight."

"Yeah. But so does your breath so we're even." Greg grinned.

Nick laughed, slugging his arm. Greg slugged his arm back.

"So onto the next rule," Grissom loudly said, "**477. We do not demonstrate public beheadings, even on resuscitation dolls.** And who, shall I ask, did this?"

The question sobered Nick and Greg.

Quietly Greg told him, "Warrick was mad at some kids pulling a prank on the police with a resuscitation doll."

"So he beheaded it?" Grissom asked, smiling.

Greg almost smiled. "Yeah. He grabbed it, twisted the head off, and threw the head back to the kids. Told them the next time they did it, he'd do that to their heads. They ran off screaming for their parents."

"At least that was effective!" Catherine laughed. "And only the resuscitation doll had to die. That's always good."

"Yeah, but then I had to promise to write him up for it," Ecklie said.

"You did?" Grissom asked.

"I said I had to promise, I didn't say anything about actually doing it."

"You kept your fingers crossed when you promised?" Henry asked.

Ecklie smiled. "Yes. I guess I did."

It was strange how the man's smile and soft laughter seemed to lighten up the room's mood. Or maybe there was a more unearthly reason for that.

"So the next one," David began. "**478. I will not re-create the Running of the Bulls using the lab rats or mice. (**_**Submitted by DustBunnyQueen**_). What!?"

"Yes. What. Exactly." Archie said.

She looked over at him. "You did that?"

"Me? No. I was an innocent bystander."

"Innocent as a kid with his hand in a cookie jar! You, Warrick, and Hodges are all guilty of plotting it."

"Yes. But plotting is not considered actually doing it."

"Being an accessory is just as bad as doing it, Archie," Ecklie told him.

"I wasn't an accessory. I was a bystander. I stood by and watched. See? I didn't accessorize anything."

"And cheered," Hodges added.

"So you are admitting guilt to this one?"

"Hey. Warrick and I were bored and it's pretty rare for him to say, 'Hodges, let's...' on anything."

They laughed and no one seemed to catch the present tense Hodges used. He decided to let it slide rather than correct it.

"Okay, so this one he stole from the paramedics. **479. Air goes in and out, blood goes round and round, any variation of this is bad**," Greg read.

"Meaning?" Catherine asked.

"Meaning that you breathe air in and out. Blood runs around in the body. If either of those change for any reason, you're looking at a very dead or dying victim."

"He stole that from me," Grissom told Greg.

"See, now, Tory says he stole it from them."

"Tory is a credit hog," Ecklie told Greg. "He'd claim he made earth if he thought he could get away with it."

"Yeah. He and Warrick fought about that a lot, especially when he was gallantly trying to save a victim all over the crime scene."

"So Tory says this one all the time. **480. All bleeding stops, eventually**. Did he steal that from someone ya'all think?" Nick asked.

With horrible harmonic distortion, the group answered 'probably.'

"Is number **481 **true?" Henry asked. "**The love of our fellow officers of law is proportional to their acceptance of our findings**."

"Oh _so_ true." Catherine told him.

"The epitome of truth," Nick added.

"It is not. Stop teasing him," Grissom told them.

"It is too!" everyone else argued. Ecklie broke off telling Grissom, "When have the police ever liked us when we found their suspect innocent? Ever? Name me one time."

Grissom thought for a moment, then smiled. "I'll make you a list."

Ecklie looked away. "I hate everyone I work with."

"That's my line! THIEF!" Greg cried, getting another laugh from the group.

"Hey! He wrote one that's so very true it's so very sad!" Archie cried, reading, "**482. There is a reason lab rats should not talk to the media.**"

"Speak for yourself!" Wendy retorted. "I do just fine talking to the press."

"And when have you ever spoken to the press?" Gina asked her.

Wendy grinned. "Yes. Exactly."

"I don't get it," Hodges said.

"Me neither," Henry added.

"All the more reason for the rule," Sara jabbed at them. "He knew people better than you think he did."

"This is why we have rule **483**, is it?" Robbins asked. "**Never second-guess a man with a girl's name.**"

"Oh! That's Sandra!" Greg told them.

Nick added, "And Big Rhonda."

"And Harris Janice"

"Candy."

"Trisha."

"We get it," Sara told them. "There were a lot of them. We all knew them and loved them."

"I wouldn't call it love," Nick argued.

"More like liked. Maybe above average like, but certainly no where near the love line."

In a softer voice she told them, "Don't joke about the, okay? They're the ones that are setting up the memorial in the alley. Don't... Don't joke about them. They're all good people with good hearts. He knew that. He saw that."

Her point sobered the room for several moments.

"I'm afraid I might be responsible for those next two," Robbins admitted. "**485. Captain Kangaroo may not be used as the name of a John Doe**. And **486. Lamb Chop may not be used as the name of a Jane Doe**. I gave him grief when he used those names. We laugh, say it wouldn't happen again, and then do it again. I think he knew I laughed every time because I always knew that was Warrick's case."

"Hey, this next one works great. He shouldn't have put that one up there!" Hodges laughed. "**494. I may not 'make my job easier' by having a co-worker or cadet that talks to much be my personal reader when I am given a case with mountains of paperwork to read through. (**_**inspired by the last llama**_**)**."

Ecklie shook his head, looking back at him. "Why, Hodges, do you admit these things? Don't you realize how much trouble you wouldn't get into if you didn't tell me things that makes me blame you for everything that goes wrong?"

"Seriously?" Hodges asked.

Ecklie smirked, looking away. "Gullible as Gilligan."

That cracked up the room.

Greg looked up at the last rule, starting to read, "And last but not least, number four hundred and ninety... five..." Greg's voice trailed off as he mentally finished the rule before reading out loud.

The other's looked at the rule and it quickly took the joy from the room. For the superstitious of the group, it hinted that subconsciously he knew that morning was his last, even if consciously he didn't. For the others, it just eerily echoed Warrick's fate, as if some paranormal force had taken his hand and forewarned him – but he never saw it.

Quietly Sara read it for the group. "**495. The mountain your co-workers must move to clear you name grows proportionally to the amount of trouble you're in – but never doubt they _will_ move it.**"

The room fell silent. For a while they had been able to ease the pain of loss, but it was back to confront them and it left no one untouched.

In a hushed voice, as though he knew anything louder might be considered disrespectful, Hodges told them, "This place, this one room, is the closest I've ever had to a family I cared about or a home where I wanted to stay. I wonder if he felt that way too,"

"Yes," Catherine answered.

No one argued with her.

_-+-Ecc. 3:4_


	31. Who's Your Secret Ghoul?

31) Who's Your Secret Ghoul?

Henry Andrews pushed the shopping cart slowly, looking over the rows and rows of spaghetti sauce. He wasn't in the mood for it today, but it was quick and easy to make – and Jason never seemed to get bored with it.

The cart rocked as Jason jumped on and plopped two bottles of soda in the basket.

"Want anything else?" Henry asked, although he wasn't really listening for an answer.

"No. I'm good."

Jason dipped down, sliding onto the basket under the cart. He rolled onto his back, staring up at Henry.

"Henry?"

"Hm?"

"What are you doing?"

"Trying to decide which sauce to make for dinner tomorrow."

"What are we doing for dinner tonight?"

"I dunno. What are you in the mood for?"

Jason grinned. "Chinese!"

"K."

Jason frowned for a few seconds. "Henry?"

"Hm?" Henry leaned over, taking a can from the bottom and reading the ingredients.

"Should we get cupcakes?"

"If you want them."

"For the party."

"I already put an order in for your school party, kiddo. Here's a recipe for porcupine meatballs. We have everything for it. Should we give it a try?"

"Okay. Not my school party. The Wall party."

"What Wall party?"

"The one you said you had last year at The Wall."

Henry stopped reading and focused on his little brother. "What?"

"You told me that last year you guys had a party at The Wall for Halloween. Everyone put their name in a hat and picked one out for their secret Ghoul. And then you all bought presents and brought party stuff and had a party. You told me about it three weeks ago, remember?"

Henry drew in a long breath, held it and released it. He smiled at Jason. "We're not doing it this year."

"Why?"

Henry turned back to the can. "Do you want bow ties instead of spaghetti with this?"

"Why'd you change the subject, Henry?"

"You sound like dad when you say that."

"I do?"

"Yes. That wasn't a compliment, either."

Jason climbed out of the cart and stood up in front of his older brother. He yanked the can away, glaring at him when he looked at him.

"What?" Henry asked.

"Why aren't we going to have the party this year?"

"Lots of reason. Get two more cans and let's check out. I want some time to watch a movie before I go to work."

"Not until you answer my question," Jason informed him.

Henry leaned over, looking him in the eye. "This is not the place for this discussion or a temper tantrum. Got it? Either do what I told you or move."

Jason wasn't intimidated by Henry's threat. Henry sighed, yanking the can away and dropping it in the cart.

"No one wants to, Jason. We're… We're just not ready for that right now. Okay? Can you live with that?"

"Because Warrick died and Sara went away again?"

"Partly."

"What's the other part?"

"Money. With the economy in the pot, the city's been making budge cuts, and our salaries were one of them Okay? Can we go now?"

Jason moved over to the cart, watching Henry get two more cans. He held onto the basket as Henry pushed it. They waited silently in the checkout line. Jason watched as the food was slid across the barcode scanner. He looked up at Henry, watching him watch nothing.

"Are we having trouble with money too, Henry?"

Henry shook his head. "We're good."

Jason looked at the food. Suddenly he darted off.

"Jason!" Henry cried.

Jason raced into the aisle with pre-mixes and grabbed a variety of bags for cookies, cupcakes, brownies, and two cans of sprinkles. He raced back as the last item was slid across the scanner, and dropped them on the belt. The cashier looked at him, then Henry, waiting to make sure it was okay to scan the items. Henry looked down at his little brother.

"What is all that for?"

"We're going to have a party. I'm going to bake the cupcakes and cookies."

"Jason I just told you—"

"I have an idea that will make everyone happy again."

Henry stared at him. Jason smiled, hugging Henry. "I have an idea, Henry. I do. I promise it's a good one. Please?"

Henry smiled. "Why do I get the feeling I'm going to get to make these cupcakes and cookies?"

Jason shook his head. "No. Me."

Henry looked at the cashier, motioning to them. The woman scanned them and took his debit card. The two headed for the door with their cart.

"So what's your great idea, kiddo?"

"I'm working out the details. I'll tell you when I have all the rules made."

Henry smiled. "Okay. Let me know when."

#

Ecklie looked up when his door open and watched as The Wall Crew enter, each one holding a piece of paper. The Water and Sanitation supervisor on the other end didn't appear to notice Ecklie had stopped saying 'uh-huh,' 'mm-hm,' or 'I see.' Mandy was the last person in and shut the door behind her.

"Chris, I need to call you right back."

"What? Why?" Chris asked.

"Something's come up I need to take care of. I'll call you right back." Ecklie hung up before Chris could argue. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong," Grissom told him. He handed Ecklie his piece of paper. "Young Andrews has planned The Wall Crew Halloween party."

Ecklie took it, but didn't look at it. "I thought we agreed to pass on that this year, with everything that's happened."

"We did," Catherine said, "but it's for Jason. He doesn't really understand why we can't do it and so we decided to go ahead after all. He's come up with a way we can do secret gifts without too much money, too."

Ecklie looked down at the piece of paper. He held it up, reading what was written on it out loud – despite knowing the others probably had already read their paper.

"Rules for the Secret Ghoulie Tune. _Rule number one_, none of the songs can have bad words in them or be really mean. _Rule number two_, they have to have your secret ghoulies name in the title. The name can be any derivative of their name, their middle or last name. But you cannot ask your secret ghoulie what any of these are – you can only use what you know about your secret ghoulie. No nicknames either. _Rule number three_, if you're unable to find a song with your secret ghoulie's name, then you have to write a poem or limerick or something. _Rule number five_, you may submit more than one song, but you have to let DJ Ghoulie know which is your first pick. _Rule number 6_, you may not ask DJ Ghoulie for any help what so ever."

Ecklie paused, glancing at them, and then continued, "The Secret Ghoulie Guessing Game will be to guess which rule is for which ghoulie. The ghoulie that guess the most rules will receive a free meal the next time The Wall Crew goes out to eat. All rules have to be nice and must be something your secret ghoulie did, but probably shouldn't do again."

Ecklie looked up at them. Hodges was holding out a CSI baseball cap with folded pieces of paper in it.

"Jason already drew his cuz he had to get to school. Your turn," Hodges said.

"And the rest of you?"

"We thought we'd give you the first draw honor," Hodges said with a smile.

Ecklie looked at the rules, then the hat. He motioned Hodges to him.

"Who's the DJ Ghoulie?"

"I volunteered," Archie said.

Conrad drew out a piece of paper and smiled at the name. He folded it again, slipping it in his pocket. The crew drew out names.

"That all?" Ecklie asked.

"They answered, "Yes."

"Then get back to work. Crime isn't taking a coffee break."

It made him smile to hear a couple of them laugh. It had been two weeks since he'd heard any of them do that. When they left he pulled his paper out, staring at the name. Already he had a few songs in mind.

His phone rang and he heaved a sigh, putting the paper back in his pocket. Back to facing the end of his shift. He answered the phone on the fourth ring.

#

For most of the Crew, the walk to The Wall was long and difficult. Most of them hadn't been back since the first week Warrick passed away. It made coming down the hall a little emotional, but they didn't want to disappoint a seven-year-old that, according to Henry, had shown up at six in the morning to wait in the room for everyone. They were so focused on this that no one noticed Archie had disappeared at eight.

What waited at the end was a surprise. Not even Henry had expected the room to be decorated, or to find such a lavish buffet set out – he hadn't even known his brother was doing this much.

"Jason… Where did you get all this food?" Henry asked.

"I used my allowance."

"You only get twenty dollars a week!"

"Yes, but I've been saving it since you started giving it to me."

"You've been saving your allowance for a little more than a year?" Hodges asked.

"Yep! So I had Gina order us food. She used to cater and she helped me set it up."

"I come back to the, ''You've been saving your allowance for a little more than a year'? Henry, who is this kid? Is he really a kid?"

Jason laughed, grabbing Hodges' hand and dragging him to the table. "And I got one of everything everyone likes. See. Those little corn dogs you say are your Achilles' heel."

Hodges smiled. "You sure are a funny kid, Jason. But I like you!"

"Where are our rules?" Wendy asked. She guessed they were hidden behind the thick 'web' of cotton, but had to ask. She didn't want to look at them since the web ended under the last rule Warrick had written.

"Oh. I covered them up so it would be fair."

"Good thinking, Jason," Ecklie told him.

"You think so?"

"I do."

"Well, Archie had to go get the CDs. He said to start without him and he'd be here as soon as he could be."

"Get the CDs?" Catherine asked.

"Yep. We had them made to look all kinds of professional."

Henry crouched down in front of him. "Did you miss the concept this wasn't supposed to cost a lot?"

"It wasn't supposed to cost them a lot." He motioned to the rest of the group. "And it was my money. You gave it to me."

The look on Henry's face said he had things to say, not angry things, but he wasn't going to do that here. He reached out, putting his hand on his little brother's cheek. "How can a big brother argue with that?"

Greg clapped his hands together once, breaking up the moment. "So what's first, Jason?"

"Hey, hey, hey! Archie is in the building," Archie said as he came through the door with a sack. He picked a CD out of the bag, holding it up. The cases were orange and the front was a pumpkin with a collage of pictures of the entire crew. "Just called it the Monster Mash since I didn't have anything more creative." He handed a CD out to everyone.

"The CD, I guess," Jason said with a missing tooth grin.

"Hey! When'd you lose that tooth?" Bobby asked

"I lost it two nights ago. See?" Jason offered an open mouth for him to see. "An' dif one if loof too."

Bobby laughed. "Loof toofs are the pits, huh?"

Jason nodded.

"Okay," Archie said. "This is the most convoluted mix CD I've ever produced. Where you all found these songs is beyond me! So don't blame me for the weirdness of it."

He put his copy in the old, blocky boom box sitting under the TV on the rickety TV stand. The funny thing was no one could remember when the boom box appeared or whose it was.

The last thing Archie pulled out of the bag was a large sign that he taped next to the cotton 'web.' Next to each son was a blank line. He taped the sign next to the hidden list and sat a marker on the TV.

_

* * *

2008 Wall Crew Monster Mash_

1. C.S.I. – Camillo Perazzoli (_Author's personal favorite_)  
2. Nick the Stripper – The Birthday Party (_It was this or 'Nick' by Edge City. Coin toss decided song..._)  
3. Special Agent Conrad Uno – Man or Astro-Man (_Coin tosses decided between 'Conrad Takes On The World' by Anne Summers, 'Conrad We Love you' by Untold Legends, and the ultimate winner_)  
4. Wendy – The Descendents (_Although the author voted for 'Tomorrow, Wendy' by Concrete Blonde_)  
5. Gina Knows – Lauden Swain (_The author liked 'Gina' by Blues Traveler, and Geggy Tah. It was pointed out Geggy Tah's is about a cow. We tossed a coin to decide which of the remaining two would make the playlist._)  
6. David – Russell Crowe & 30 Odd Foot of Grunts  
7. Hodge's Time – The Konnarock Critters  
8. Albert – Tokyo Joe  
9. Gil – Marlin Drixan  
10. Chasin' Jason – Jeff Berlin  
11. Dance With Me Henry – Etta James (_Had a coin toss between this and 'Henry Nearly Killed Me' by Ray LaMontagne_)  
12. Greg – Billkidney & Complete Control  
13. Hey Bobby – Cocoa Tea  
14. Catherine – Dr. Pants (_The author was gunning for a song by the same title by Jaed, but she was reminded a 7 year old present and perhaps the lyrics wouldn't be very appropriate_)  
15. James – Huffamoose (_There was a great debate on which artist for this song title to choose. We finally drew from a hat, but the other artists were The Bangles, Billy Joel, Blue October, and Maritime._)  
16. Please, Mr. Johnson – Buddy Johnson (_Author was really pushing for 'Mr. Johnson's Head' by Insane Clown Posse, but was reminded a 7 year old would present and agreed a song about a homicidal teenager might not be the best choice._)  
17. Mandy – Barry Manilow (_Again, the whole 7 year old thing made the author give up the suggestive and explicit lyrical musings of 'Mandy Goes To Med School' by The Dresden Dolls_)  
18. Las Vegas With the Light Out – Geggy Tah (_The author was told Sara emailed the DJ Ghoulie this song, but swore not to reveal this until after the party..._)

* * *

"Nick the Stripper? Who am I going to kill?" Nick asked.

"You think that's bad," David told him, "Mine is sung by Russell Crowe. That's scary. Plain scary."

Catherine scoffed. "Mine is sung by some guy named Dr. Pants. And Conrad a secret agent? That's a stretch of an imagination." She looked sidelong at Jason. "Perhaps a short man's imagination?"

Jason just smiled.

Archie hit the play button and continued. "Now the rules," Archie said and pulled down the web.

Everyone grabbed paper and pens, arming to guess what rules was meant for whom.

**

* * *

488. I will not greet my supervisor, "What is it you wish of me, Lord Vadar?" (_Submitted by VessaMorana_****) (Greg's handwriting)**

**489. I am not allowed to write 'Fail' on crime scene photos that were out of focus, not of the crime scene, or otherwise mis-shots. (Ecklie's handwriting)**

**490. ****EMTs care more about the living than the evidence. Any attempt to convince them otherwise will result in a black eye, or possibly waking up from a nice sedative induced nap with your keys locked in your vehicle. ****(Catherine's handwriting)**

**491. My supervisor does not care why I showed up at a crime scene wearing a fez. (Hodges's handwriting)**

**492. If a suspect's name is Susan, I may not say repeatedly, "What can I say about Suze?" ****(_Submitted by CsiFREAK24 and a friend_****) ****(Wendy's handwriting)**

**493. If you are a boy, you do not have a _Moon Spiral Heart Attack_****, disguise pen, or transformation brooch. Nor do your crime fighting partners dress up in Japanese schoolgirl uniforms. (Mandy's handwriting)**

**494. Revisit: Even if a child repeatedly smacks me with a Nerf bat, I cannot arrest the child for being rude. (Robbins' handwriting)**

**495. ****When asked for what has contributed to crime dropping over the last quarter, you are not allowed to answer, "Because we hired Dexter as our blood spatter analyst."**** (Brass' handwriting)**

**496. Victims of natural deaths will invariably have obstinate relatives. (Bobby's handwriting)**

**497. I will not use Shrek's onion analogy to describe upper management persons and/or their spouses. (_inspired by the last llama_****) (Grissom's handwriting)**

**498. While on shift, always order food 'to go.' (Brass' handwriting)**

**499. EMTs are not to be referred to as 'Empty Minded Twit' or 'Educated Monkey Trainer.' (Jason's handwriting)**

**500. Inflatable sheep are not to be seen processing a crime scene. (Henry's handwriting)**

**501. ****If my goldfish dies under 'suspicious circumstances,' I am not allowed to bring it in for an autopsy. (_submitted by csiFREAK24_****) ****(Nick's handwriting)**

**502. We do not refer to fleeing suspects as a 'track star.' (David's handwriting)**

**503. We do not have a ceiling cat in the interview rooms that sees and hears all. Nor do we convince extremely gullible persons that we do. (Gina's handwriting)**

* * *

"I have the entire list," Mandy said.

"No way!" Hodges cried out.

"Listen and weep, Spanky…  
Hodges drew Greg,  
Greg drew David,  
David drew Brass,  
Mandy drew Bobby,  
Bobby drew Grissom,  
Grissom drew Henry,  
Henry drew Nick,  
Nick drew Gina,  
Gina drew Wendy,  
Wendy drew Robbins,  
Robbins drew Catherine,  
Catherine drew Hodges,  
Ecklie drew Jason,  
Jason drew Ecklie,  
And Brass drew Mandy, but he wrote an extra rule for Archie just to throw the rest of us off the scent."

"Now why on earth would you do that, Jim?" Catherine asked.

"Like she said. To throw you off the scent, stir things up. And I do not go around yelling 'track star' at fleeing suspects."

"Yes you do," Nick, Greg, and Catherine told him. Greg added, "And you started it after watching that new TV series about the cop that finds himself in the '70's. It's really annoying when you order, 'Go after that track star, Ace! I'm too old to run.'"

Brass grinned. "Really? I've started that. Maybe it's subconscious revenge for all the hell you and Nick put me through out there."

"We don't do that. We respect you too much for that," Nick told him with a straight face.

"Is that why I caught you processing the scene with Bobby's inflatable sheep?"

"It needed to go for a walk."

"It's plastic."

"It won't contaminate the crime scene."

"You're not winning this one, Nicky."

Nick started to retort several times but stopped. He frowned. "You know that respect comment I made earlier. I retract it."

They laughed, making Nick grin.

"Jason…" Ecklie started. "I, uhm… I'm not really sure where you got my rule."

"I've heard you call EMT that."

Ecklie looked down at him, but everyone else looked at Ecklie.

"I do not call them that."

"Yes you do."

"I do not."

"Would now be a good time to point out you're arguing with a seven-year-old, sir?" Hodges asked.

"I have never called EMT that. Ever."

"Ever?" Grissom asked with a baiting tone.

Ecklie cleared his throat, avoided their eyes. With a sigh he admitted, "Okay. Maybe I have. A couple times. To myself."

"You called that one you drug into the storage room to yell at for destroying evidence both of those. You were really mad at him."

Ecklie looked down at him, unable to hide his shock. "That's it. You can't come into the building until I've left."

Jason grinned, taking his hand. "I promise to never ever tell anyone that isn't part of The Wall Crew, ever. Cross my heart."

Ecklie tried to resist and stay angry, but it didn't last when Jason batted his eyes. He grabbed the child's shoulder, giving it a hard squeeze.

"No more eavesdropping."

"Kinda hard not to when you can hear it you're in the meeting room behind the storage room," Wendy muttered loudly. "Which is where he was when we both got to hear it."

"I got work to do. Thanks for the party. Bye."

They watched him leave before bursting into laughter.

"Tell us about Gina's fish story, Nick," Bobby urged.

"No," Gina said. "It's not that interesting."

"The hell it isn't!" Nick retorted.

"I forbid you to discuss it."

"So she comes in, after her shift was over hours ago, with a dead gold fish in a baggie."

"You can stop now.

"No he can't. We gotta hear this," Mandy told her.

Gina covered her face with her hand.

"She says, 'Nick, my goldfish died. I've only had it for four days. Can you tell me why it died?' I say to her, 'Gina, it's a goldfish. They die.' She tells me 'But Rudolph shouldn't have died after four days. I need to know why he died. I might have a civil case here because I got his other friends from the same store and I'm worried about them.' So I take the fish, test it, nothing strange. Suddenly she becomes Grissom's natural caused death with obstinate relatives."

Brass commented with a chuckle, "Add a blind man and a bar to that, and it'd be a good joke."

"I was not that bad."

"You showed up at my house and stood on the step yelling, Gina."

"I wasn't yelling. I was talking loudly. There's a difference."

Catherine's phone alarm went off and she looked at it. "I have to go, guys. Lindsay has a dentist appointment. Thanks for the CD, Archie. And Jason, you throw a good party. Bye everyone."

She left and signaled the departure of everyone else until Jason, Henry, and Grissom were the only ones left.

"I have tomorrow off, Henry. I'll help Jason clean up if you want to head on home," Grissom offered.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah."

"Okay. See you at home, Jason."

"Cake!"

"Pie," Henry said as he walked through the door.

Jason started taking down the decorations. Grissom eased into a recliner and followed it with a long sigh.

"You did a good thing with the party, Jason."

He stopped, turning to him. "Do you think everyone liked it?"

Grissom smiled. "Yes."

Jason climbed onto Grissom's lap, laying his head on his shoulder. Grissom wrapped his arms around the boy. It always surprised him how much better he felt when he held Jason. He closed his eyes, teetering on the edge of sleep.

"I want to ask you a question, but it will make you sad," Jason said.

"You can ask anyway," Grissom told him.

"Why wouldn't Henry let me go to the funeral?"

"You were in school and he didn't want to take you out for it."

"Do you think Warrick is in heaven with my mom and dad?"

"I have no doubt he is."

"You look tired. Do you want to take a nap? I can finish cleaning up."

"No. I'll help." Grissom moved his hands to the arms of the recliner, anticipating getting up. But he didn't open his eyes; sleep was a little stronger than will power.

Jason grabbed his wrists and wrapped Grissom's arms around him. "You take a nap, Grissom. We both have the day off, so we can take as long as we want. Henry won't mind. He never minds when we hang out."

Grissom smiled. "Okay, but you wake me to help get the things off the ceiling so I can get them. Then we can take all this food back to your house and make some lunch, okay?"

"Okay. You take a nap."

Grissom nodded. "Thank you," he whispered.

Jason turned over on his back, toying with Grissom's watch and humming. Grissom drifted to sleep under the warmth of the boy and to his soothing sounds.

( o :

_Author's Note: All of the songs are on iTunes, if'n you'da like your own __2008 Wall Crew Monster Mash__ CD._

What?

_You didn't really think I made up those songs and artists? Did you? _

_: o )_


	32. The Wall Spawns Another

32) The Wall Spawns Another_  
(I'm miscounted the rule numbers somewhere and now that we're at 500, I'm not going back to figure it out. So we move forward…)_

Two figures dressed in dark clothes and black hoodies moved along the fence at the back of the police station. One stepped on a bottle and it softly popped.

"Shh!" the first figure ordered.

"What the hell are we doing back here?" the second voice, belonging to a one Adam Ross, demanded. He wasn't trying to be quiet.

"Shhh!" the first person ordered.

"Why are we back here?" Adam stopped walking. "I am not moving another inch until you tell me why we couldn't use the front door, Greg."

Greg turned, his face revealed in the distant light on the corner of the building.

In a whisper he asked, "You said you wanted to see something few people have ever seen in Las Vegas, right?"

"Ye—"

"Keep your voice down!"

"Yes," Adam snapped.

"You said you wanted to see something historic."

"Yes!"

"Then shut up, watch where you're walking, and follow me. If anyone knew I was showing you this I'd be in a lot of trouble." Greg started walking again.

"But we're at the police station, Greg!" Adam retorted.

Greg didn't stop walking. Adam sighed and followed his cousin. They came out on a road and Greg fished out his keys. He worked the padlock on the other side around until he could slip a key in and unlock it. He dropped the chain and held the gate open for Adam to go through. Greg went through behind him and locked the gate again.

"This way," Greg quietly ordered.

The two followed the fence up to where it met the building and then to a stairwell. Greg trotted down the stairs and stopped at the door. He pulled a tiny Maglight from his pocket and turned it on.

"Hold this."

Adam took the light, watching him sort through the keys until he found one. He slid it in and then with a lot of face contortions and a few muttered curses, turned the stubborn key and wrestled the door open. Adam was staring at him with a concerned expression when Greg looked at him.

"What?"

"Is this door supposed to even open?"

"Yes. Inside and be quiet."

Adam walked in, finding they were at the bottom of a stairwell. Greg pulled the door closed behind him and walked to the door that led out of the stairwell into the building. Adam walked behind him. Greg slowly pushed the door open, looking around the corner.

At a regular volume Adam began, "Greg, what—"

Greg pulled the door closed, careful not to slam it, and then slapped his hand over Adam's mouth. It stung a little.

"Jesus, Adam! Remember how we always got caught as kids because you wouldn't shut up!? Just this once, shut up! Just follow me without a word, okay? Can you do that? Nod if you can do that?"

Adam sighed but nodded.

"Are you sure? Because if you get us caught and me in trouble I will kick your ass all the way back to New York. I promise it will not be pretty."

Adam didn't look convinced.

"Adam."

Adam didn't answer.

"Adam!" Greg quietly hissed.

Adam rolled his eyes and said against Greg's hand, "All right. All right. Silence from here on out. Happy?"

Greg dropped his hand and checked outside the door again. He motioned Adam to be quiet, then waved him to follow. The two slipped into a dim lit hall. The first thing Adam noticed was it was quiet. The second was that a sign pointed to morgue one way, and records the other. He almost sighed in relief when Greg turned toward records. Greg stopped at the keypad outside the door and swiped a badge. Adam's keen eye noted that unlike Greg's other badge, this one had no picture or identification on it. The pad light changed to green and Greg opened the door, waving Adam in.

Greg closed the door and started down the aisle to his left. Adam fell in beside him, looking around him. It wasn't much different from New York's records: shelves from floor to ceiling with boxes from years and years of cases.

"Want a beer?" Greg asked at a regular volume.

Adam looked at him. He was watching him, waiting for an answer. Adam held back his smile so as not to ruin his moment.

Whispering he answered, "Yes. Please."

Greg laughed. "You can talk now, Squigy."

Adam smiled. "So you think you can kick my ass, huh, Pidge?"

"You know I can."

Adam laughed. "I never lost a fight to you. Ever."

At the end of the aisle, Greg climbed up on a chair in front of a window well. He pulled out a six-pack of beer with only four bottles of beer left. Adam held out his hand when he climbed down, expecting one.

"Not so fast." Greg said, pulling the beers away. "Come on. We're almost there." Greg started down the aisle leading across the room.

Adam could see a row of old, overstuffed filing cabinets at the end. He could just barely make out a door behind the cabinets. "What exactly is it you're showing me?"

"Something. Come on."

They reached the end and Adam watched Greg slip through the narrow opening between a filing cabinet and the wall.

"Come on."

Adam followed him. Greg opened the door and flicked the light on as he passed the switch. Adam stepped through the doorway and stopped short. His response was the same as it had been for so many others that had been led to Las Vegas' best kept secret – he stared in surprise and amazement. Greg sat the beers on the table, took one, and fell onto the sofa. He drank his beer as he watched Adam take in everything from the crazy, mismatched furniture to the leftover Halloween directions, to the writings on the walls, floor, ceiling, and table.

"What is this place?"

"We call it The Wall."

"We?" Adam turned to him. "We who?"

"Some of the lab rats and CSI."

Adam walked over to the recliner near Greg and sat on the edge. "Who? Who knows about it?"

Greg thought a second and then smiled. "We call ourselves The Wall Crew. It's me, Nick, Catherine, Grissom, Hodges – the really annoying guy I warned you about, Archie, Henry and his little brother Jason, Bras – he's the detective you met yesterday, Catherine – oh, I said her already – Gina the receptionist, Wendy and Mandy." Greg thought a moment. "Yeah. That's all."

"And no one else knows about this place? Even with Ecklie knowing? He doesn't seem the type to keep this kind of secret? How did you find out about it? What are all those numbered sentences about anyway?"

Greg started laughing halfway through the bombardment of questions. Adam grinned, waiting.

"Geeze, Adam, you are something, know that?"

"What?"

"You just never changed. You're still all inquisitive and stuff."

Adam's smile faded. "You're not like you used to be. You were a lot more stranger last time I visited."

Greg sipped his beer, picking at a string on the edge of a hole in his jeans. "Lots of things have happened since you were out here last." Greg looked at him. "But maybe now you can tell me why you dropped out of the blue on me yesterday and what's got you all pissed."

"I don't get pissed."

"That's what the rest of the world thinks, but you were practically my brother most summers, so don't tell me something doesn't have you pissed off. Spill it. What's going on?"

Adam sat back in the recliner. "Well… I got this notice I was being laid off. I thought it was Mac that—"

"Mac who?"

"My boss. I thought he'd put it in my box, but he didn't. Then he had a huge blow up with the head of the department over it; apparently he was the one that made the decision. Then Stella—"

"She's the head of the department?" Greg took a sip.

"No. She's a CSI."

"K. Go on."

"Well, she talked to the other CSI and they gave up vacation time so Mac could get the twenty thousand the head said had to be raised to keep me and the other techs being laid off. I don't know how, some political red tape and moving of money involved or something. Anyway! So it was supposed to be all fixed. Then suddenly, it wasn't. I was laid off like the letter said. Well, Mac said it was going to take some time to sort it out, but he promised me I'd get my job back in a week. I couldn't stay there, Greg. You're right. I was pissed. So I got on the first flight here and, surprise!, here I am."

"That sucks."

"Yeah, but if Mac says he'll fix it, he'll fix it. He's good about that stuff."

Greg smiled. He remembered how he felt that way about Grissom. Before he started getting really flaky and unpredictable. Now he didn't know who Grissom was, or if he could even trust him. But that was something he hadn't told anyone about, and wouldn't tell Adam, either. Some secrets were better left unsaid.

"That's cool."

"So… Do you guys like come here and hang out?"

"Yeah."

"Like on breaks and stuff?"

"Yeah. We do. But sometimes we meet down here just for the hell of it. The last time we were all down here was for a Halloween party. That was pretty cool. Jason, that's Henry's brother, he planned it."

"I thought you said his brother was eight?"

"He is."

"Why does an eight year old know about it?"

"Henry inherited him after their parents were killed and he's been coming here since he was six. Plus, he's like Henry, wicked smart. If the two of them could be put in the same brain, the world's problems would be solved overnight."

Adam laughed, but Greg just smiled.

"So how'd you find out about it? And what's with the numbers?"

"I found out about it when I was a lab tech back in the day."

Adam scoffed at him. "It wasn't so long ago."

"Whatever. Hodges, Archie, and Bobby – I forgot, Bobby is in the crew too – showed it to me. From there, it kind of blossomed. Ecklie found out about it by accident – someone left the light on once. He wasn't really ticked about it, but we had to stop doing a few things and get rid of some derogatory stuff. All those numbered things are rules about what lab rats aren't allowed to do anymore – it's sort of bled over to CSI too."

Adam was dumbstruck. Slowly he got up and looked at all the rules around him. He looked down at Greg, who was watching him as he drank more beer.

"There's five hundred rules here!"

"Yep."

"How long have you guys been working on this list?"

"A couple years."

"There are five hundred rules here, Greg!"

"As you pointed out five seconds ago."

"Greg…" Adam turned his eyes back to the rules. "This is… Las Vegas best kept secret. If the public knew about this place…"

"The public is the least of our worries. If the brass above Ecklie, or the other CSI or lab techs knew, this place would be destroyed."

Adam spun around, facing him as he started laughing. "You have a secret club!"

Greg's gaze cooled. "It is _not_ a secret club."

"It is!"

"No. It is not."

"What's that thing called when only a few select people know about it and there's a secret entrance and secret rules?" Adam motioned at the rules. "Oh! That's right! A secret club!"

"You're an ass."

Adam looked back at his butt, then Greg. "At least mine's shapely and not flat like yours. You're still a pancake butt."

Greg laughed at him, shaking his head. Adam turned, reading the rules.

"I want to add some."

"No."

"Come on. Let me add some."

"No, man! You're not on the crew, and if they find out I told you, they'd be ticked. It's bad enough David's wife knows. Oh yeah, David and Robbins are on the crew too."

Adam looked down at him. Greg was peeling the label off his beer bottle.

"The medical examiners know about this place?"

"Just those two."

"They leave rules too?"

"Only if it's about something we've done."

Adam climbed onto the recliner and squatted. "So, tell me the best stories behind some of these."

Greg looked up at them. "The new ones are really good stories."

"New ones?" Adam looked at the list. "Where was it last time you were in here?"

"Five hundred and four." Greg sat up, looking at the next rule:

**

* * *

505. When I've done something wrong at a crime scene, I will not point at a deceased victim and cry, "He/She made me do it!" (**_**Submitted by DustBunnyQueen**_**)**

* * *

"That was Nick, and that's his handwriting."

"Nick? That guy from Texas?"

"Yeah."

"He did that? He doesn't seem the type."

"Oh, you don't know Nick." Greg swallowed a drink of beer. "There's been a few times him and I have almost gotten fired over the stuff we've pulled. See, we test Grissom and Catherine, make sure they're well prepared for tough suspects or the media. It works out, really."

Adam laughed. "Oh yeah? Kinda like when you decided to see if cornstarch really wouldn't let you sink?"

"I didn't put enough cornstarch in."

"We had cornstarch up our shorts because of you."

"And we learned to add more cornstarch, now didn't we?"

"If you think so. Jackie Chan. You? It's your writing"

Greg laughed at the rule:

**

* * *

506. I am not Jackie Chan. I cannot move like Jackie Chan. Therefore, I should refrain from attempting to stop a suspect like Jackie Chan and avoid the inevitable hospital visit. (**_**Submitted by CSIfreak24 and a friend**_**)**

* * *

"I try where I can. Sometimes I try so hard I get in trouble for it."

"So were you really hurt?"

Greg covered his face, crying out, "Oh my God! You're going to ask for details too?"

"Just the ones I can tease you about."

Greg dropped his hand, shaking his head. "I pulled…"

Adam grinned, waiting. "What? What was it?"

Greg rolled his eyes, and with a heavy sigh told him, "I pulled a groin muscle. I couldn't have sex for weeks."

Adam's laughter started quiet and polite, but it quickly turned into a roar. He fell back in the chair, sliding down to sit in it. He spilled beer on his shirt. Greg didn't laugh, since he didn't find the injury story as funny as Adam – after all, his girlfriend at the time had not been happy he couldn't give it up for four weeks.

Adam finally calmed down and the laughter slowly subsided. All that was left was wiping eyes while the last few giggles escaped.

"Ya done? Was it good for ya?"

"Anytime you look like a total horse's ass, Pidge, it's always good for me!"

Greg looked at his beer bottle. "One reason. Give me one reason I'm not going to make you wear my beer?"

"Everyone else would ask how it got spilt."

Greg drank his beer instead. "Moving on."

**

* * *

507. When called to my supervisor's office, I am not allowed to sing, "We're off to see the Wizard!" (**_**Inspired by Starsgirls**_**)**

* * *

"That was a rare glimpse into Archie on nine Red Bulls and I dunno how many Pez."

"Nine Bulls? Was he bouncing?"

"Like a high bounce ball. Grissom first thought he was drunk, but then we found the evidence in the trash in his lab. He said he'd only had four hours of sleep before work because of some pipes bursting in his apartment, and it was the only way he knew to keep awake."

"But Pez?"

"Those started after the third Red Bull."

"Who wrote that 'un?"

* * *

**508. Using all the colors of your fingerprint dust or the various colored evidence markers in a gay bar is not "showing my support for their lifestyle and community."**

* * *

"Catherine," Greg said as he let out a breath. "Yep… Another Nick and Greg busted for trying to show support. We thought it was a good idea. Very _festive_ you might say."

"You might. She didn't. Stella would be all over me if I pulled that."

Greg lifted an eyebrow. "In a really good all over way?"

"No. In a very written up all over way."

"Ohhh… That's sad."

"Sad?"

"You showed me that picture of everyone and she's really hot."

Adam looked at him. "You realize that's like telling me that my mom or sister is hot, don't you? It'd be like me telling you Catherine or Riley are hot."

"But they are, and Catherine used to be a stripper, so I wouldn't find offense to that."

"Really? She was a stripper?"

"All through college, yeah."

"I'm working in the wrong city."

Greg laughed. "Hey, we always have openings – if the whole layoff thing doesn't pan out."

Adam wrinkled his nose as he shook his head. "I'd be too close to home. I need distance."

Greg nodded. "I hear you, Adam. Your dad's a prick."

Adam sobered for a second, then smiled. "So who was that?"

* * *

**509. Your supervisor or co-worker is not psychic, so telling him, "Pinky, do you know what I'm thinking?" will not elicit mutual enjoyment.**

* * *

"Henry."

"How old is Henry?"

"He is… Twenty-three, I think."

"Isn't that like a cartoon or something?"

"Yeah. Two mice, one wants to take over the world."

"Isn't he a little old to be watching cartoons?"

"Says the man who watches Voltron and Transformers religiously."

Adam blushed, grinning. "You promised that was our secret."

"It is. Only the Wall knows. And the Wall, doesn't talk. Ever."

"Every?"

"Not unless we ask it to. Take for example this rule here…"

**

* * *

510. H2O doesn't care about humans.**

* * *

"It enlightens us to the fact that we should never taunt the rain gods."

"How?"

"When the rain approaches, and the body is in a gulch, we should not care about the body. We should run for the hills and be thankful with our lives."

Adam stared at him. "Uh-huh. How many of those have you really had tonight?" He motioned at the beer.

"You asked."

"Yeah. But you weren't supposed to go all Buddha on me."

"You asked!"

"You weren't supposed to go all Buddha on me!"

"Terd."

"Jerk."

"Whore."

"Slut."

There was a pause and then the two started laughing.

"Moving on…" Greg looked up at the rules.

**

* * *

511. "Live" and "hero" are rarely in the same sentence.**

* * *

"This is Nick," Greg told him.

"What happened?"

"He got it in his head that he'd chase down a guy that robbed a store. Got shot at a few times."

"That happens to my CSI all the time."

"Yeah, well, we're not supposed to chase suspects. Ever. Grissom wasn't pleased about it and I heard him tell Nick that exact phrase. I guess Nick felt it must be written."

"Why? What happens when it's written?"

"You never, ever, never do it again. Well, sort of. Much to our supervisor's chagrin, we find ways to bend them, but hey, it gives all sorts of new and entertaining rules."

"I bet you supervisors abuse that never, ever clause then."

"Not so much. Course, then there's rules like this next one that we all stand by without much sway, for obvious reasons."

* * *

**512. When I don't know where the key to the travel trunk is, I should not show my supervisor how the suspect put the victim in the trunk.**

* * *

"That was Hodges. He was trying to impress Ecklie and Grissom – again. Sufficed to say, the keys were _in_ the trunk, and he did not impress anyone. We did prove one thing though."

"What's that?"

"It was possible for the suspect to put the victim in the trunk, and the victim could have lived for several days. Hodges was stuck in it for five hours. He then tried convincing them he needed time off for mental wellness because the event traumatized him."

"He's a little bit girly, isn't he?"

"Yes. He is."

"Did you do that, Greg?"

**

* * *

513. I will not arrest a mime for annoying me**

* * *

"No. No. That was actually a less than shining moment for Catherine. The mime kept coming into the crime scene, mimicking her, and all around pissing her off. So she finally demanded he be arrested. Well, the officer arrested the mime, but that's when things went south. He'd just gotten off his shadow tour, and it was his second day on his own, so they both ended up in trouble. The guy won't even speak to Catherine now."

"Shadow tour?"

"That's what the unis call it when a rookie is put with a veteran. They 'shadow' them."

Adam laughed. "In New York they call it litter box training or gopher time."

"I don't get it."

"Rookies fail to see the need to use the restroom when it's available, and decided to hold it when they really shouldn't. Or the veteran sends them on errands all the time – so they go-fer. Get it?"

Greg laughed. "Same country, same business, totally different worlds."

"I hear that. Is that Hodges again?"

"No. That's Ecklie's handwriting."

* * *

**514. Claiming that Mother Nature smote you and detained you in the restroom is no excuse for handing in case notes on rolls of toilet paper.**

* * *

"And who did that?"

"I really don't know."

"You did it?"

"No. I _really_ don't know."

"Oh. I thought you were playing with me."

"But I wish I did. I'm sure it's a good story."

* * *

**515. I am not John Connor. I will not storm a building with a Terminator cyborg of any model.**

* * *

"Now that, I know nothing about."

"Riiiight."

Greg grinned. "Seriously, dude, I know nothing. I swear on my mother's eyes, I know nothing."

"Now you sound like Danny."

Greg laughed harder.

"I thought you CSI weren't supposed to storm anything? Isn't that what you just said?" Adam asked.

"Yeah. Well. We… Forget. Sometimes."

"Forget? I seriously doubt your boss guy believes in sometimes forgetting."

"Ecklie or Grissom?"

"I'll go with both and buy a vowel."

"Who's this?"

* * *

**516. We do not stick our tongue out at onlookers wanting a picture. Invariably they, or someone else in the crowd, will be working for the press, and that picture will end up on the Mayor's desk during election month.**

* * *

Greg began laughing so hard he couldn't answer. Adam grinned, watching him and waiting. Greg slowly was able to control himself.

"Gina did that. That's her handwriting."

"She's the receptionist, right?"

"Yeah."

"Why did she do that?"

"Oh, we had this huge profile case – some drug lord's daughter was murdered – and coming in one day there was a herd of paparazzi and journalists outside. She gets real testy with them anyway, so this one was bugging her for details, even after she told him she's a receptionist, she knows nothing. When he wouldn't listen, she turned around and stuck her tongue out at him. The cameras went off and almost immediately she knew she was going to get busted. The picture ended up in the paper, the paper ended up on the mayor's desk, he mayor ended up calling Ecklie. Ecklie gave her a slap on the hand."

"He must like Gina."

"Everyone likes Gina. She's a little bossy and testy, but she knows everything that's happening here and she knows everyone. And she has a huge crush on Nick, but Nick doesn't know that – but everyone in the Crew knows it. She won't tell Nick and has threatened total annihilation unto the person that tells him."

"That's sweet – in very twisted, self-torturing way."

Greg nodded. "That's Gina."

"Who's that?"

* * *

**517. I will no longer end a short observation with "you're doing it wrong."**

* * *

"That's Archie. It just cropped up all of a sudden and we got really, really tired of hearing it. So apparently Catherine wrote it."

"Wow! Isn't that next one the truth!"

**

* * *

518. If it looks like a 'textbook case,' you've looking at it wrong.**

* * *

"Oh yeah. And Grissom gets peeved if we even say a case is a textbook case. It's like his axiom or something."

"Yeah, but isn't it usually true?"

"You shouldn't take the side of a man you know only by hearsay, Squigy. It might make me leap from this couch and beat you up."

"Right. How did you get tonight off anyway? Aren't you guys short handed?"

Greg shrugged. "I told Grissom it's not like you to just show up, and you came all the way from New York, so whatever is wrong must be serious. He let me trade my next day off for tonight. So you had better feel real special, Adam. I gave up a date with a hot chic for you."

Adam didn't laugh, so Greg lost his smile.

"I am, Greg. I really am. I really needed this."

Greg smiled a little. "Ditto."

"Are you Doctor Who?"

Greg grinned, drinking his beer instead of answering.

**

* * *

519. You are not Doctor Who, your Denali is not the Tardis, and you cannot time travel.**

* * *

"Are you?"

"Shhhhh. Don't tell anyone.

"You are?"

"Shhhhhhhhhhh."

"Apparently no one believes that."

"Apparently. I could'a have sworn my Denali was the Tartus. I fell asleep at one crime scene and woke up at another."

"You were driving?"

"No… No. I think my alter ego was behind it. His name is Nick."

Adam laughed. "You sure you want to admit that?"

"No. No I'm not. That was written by Brass because of him."

* * *

**520. I will not carry my sidearm in my waistband to improve the look of my boy parts.**

* * *

"Seriously? He did that?"

"He said he needed it was in his way in his side holster. When Brass saw it, he about had a heart attack and then tore Nick a new one about safety and all this other crap. Nick said he hadn't been yelled at like that since he was sixteen and dinged his dad pick-up."

"I imagine Brass probably gets that fatherly vibe here."

"No. Grissom is dad, Catherine is mom. And it may be written that we can't call them that, so we don't."

"You don't think they hear about it."

"They do. I'm sure they do. But they've never say anything. That's Nick's informants. Well, they are now."

* * *

**521. Men with hairy legs and beards, dressed in tight evening gowns, make the best informants.**

* * *

"Who's were they before?"

Greg grew quiet and picked at the label on his beer. "Someone else's. Nick picked them up after… Well… After he left."

"He didn't leave on good terms?"

"He died."

"Oh." Adam looked at his own beer. He chugged several swallows, then asked about the next rule:

**

* * *

522. Dogs would rather eat your badge than respect it.**

* * *

That made Greg laugh. "Brass does not have a good way with dogs. They seem more interested in snacking on him than obeying him. He says he's more of a pet rock type of guy."

Adam laughed, and then jumped when his phone rang. He pulled it out of a pocket and quickly sat his beer on the floor.

"Be quiet while I'm talking to Mac."

Greg nodded. Adam hit the button to answer and then put it on speaker.

"Uhm, hi, Mac."

"We got it to go through, Adam," Mac told him.

"I-I'm not laid off anymore?"

Mac's chuckle was warm. "No. You are not. So I'll see you in here bright and early."

"Oh…" Adam hesitated. "Mac, I don't mean to be disrespectful or anything, but I can't be in until afternoon."

"You're not drunk are you?" Mac asked. There was a tone that hinted the wrong answer would be bad.

"No. No. But… I guess I didn't have faith or something. I… I went to Las Vegas to visit my cousin and get a little perspective. I'm in Las Vegas right now."

There was a pause. When Mac spoke they could hear his smile. "So maybe I should schedule you for tomorrow?"

"No. I can get a flight tonight and be in by the afternoon. I can sleep on the plane."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure."

"Okay. Get in as soon as you can. See you tomorrow, Adam."

"Okay. Mac, thank you."

"Any time, Adam. Good night and have a safe trip."

"I will."

Mac hung up and Adam grinned at Greg. He returned it.

"I'm back on! Yeah!"

Greg laughed. "You really weren't convinced he could do it, were you?"

"Well, I… No."

Greg nodded, drinking the last of his beer. He got up and grabbed his second, then fell back on the couch.

"That is such a true rule. I mean… Really true." Adam commented.

**

* * *

523. The one report you forgot to dot an 'i' or cross a 't' will be the one with hundreds of pages that will be brought into question by the other attorney, will result in a trial that goes on for weeks, and these weeks will run over the week you took off six months ago and which the plane ticket is non-refundable.**

* * *

"I, personally, haven't had it happen. Yet. But Nick's had it happen three times, Catherine once, and Grissom a couple dozen."

"Oh, Danny had it happen a couple months ago and he was ticked! The entire lab gotta hear about how mad he was. And in the end, the guy was released. He was furious!"

"I bet. I'm sure I'll get to know how it feels sooner or later."

"That rule has happened a few times to my CSI."

**

* * *

524. It only becomes an unsecured crime scene _after_ you've shown up.**

* * *

"Us too. I've gotten to where I won't go on the scene unless I have a partner with a gun or all able bodies have been removed."

"Why don't you get a gun? Can't you carry one?"

Greg shrugged. "I dunno. I just don't really want one. Guns aren't me."

"Someday that might change."

"Until then, I'll let Riley, Nick, and Catherine carry them."

"Does that happen a lot?"

**

* * *

525. If the dispatcher tells you, 'You can't miss it,' rest assured you will.**

* * *

"If only there was a way to prevent it from happening! At least three or four times a week. Even though I know the city, I don't know the county roads. So I'm always suspicious of a dispatcher that tells me that."

"I'd be too. I've lived in New York for years and I still don't know all the roads."

"You work in the lab. You don't need to know the roads."

"I've worked in the field a couple times."

"Your boss trusts you to work the field? That's just frightening. Should I tell him about the chicken you blew up?"

"I did not blow up the chicken!"

"You gave it an Alka-Seltzer."

"That was a seagull, and I didn't do it. Tommy Akins did that."

"Then why were you caught at the scene?"

Adam made a face. "You are not my friend."

"I am and you know it."

"So was that one of your gun toting buddies?"

**

* * *

526. Never draw fire. It irritates everyone around you.**

* * *

"Nick. Brass wrote that. The sad thing is Nick didn't mean to draw fire. It goes back to rule 524. That scene wasn't secure, the people weren't as under control as they should have been. So he starts working and all hell suddenly breaks loose. He said he got separated from the police somehow, and pinned between the shooters and police. He tried to make a run for better cover and that just happened to be where Brass and two officers were, hence, drawing the fire. Brass was shot in the leg, another officer in the leg and shoulder, Nick got it in the thigh. They were not happy with him."

"But he didn't have cover. That's not fair.

"He had cover. A refrigerator. He felt like his ass was in the breeze and if he didn't move, he was going to get shot by our boys."

"They're that bad of a shot?"

"I don't think so, but Nick's been shooting guns since he was four, so he thinks he's all that with guns."

"Ohhhhh. Male ego at its height?"

"Only with guns. That's about the only time I want to just clock him. Any other time, we're good."

"Don is like that."

"Who's Don?"

"A detective on the force."

"Ah. About guns?"

"Guns and women. Thinks he's Casanova with the ladies." Adam frowned. "Unfortunately…"

"He is?" Greg asked, starting to laugh.

"Lindsay says it's his eyes. They get the ladies every time. I'll just have to take her word for it."

"What about his eye?"

"Bright blue."

"Awe. I guess we'll both have to take her word for it, cause if it ain't on a girl, I don't get it."

"I bet you'd like Lindsay. She's from Montana."

Greg opened his mouth, snapped it shut, and then grinned. "I almost said what's a country girl doing in the city, but then you're from Phoenix."

"Phoenix is big, Greg."

"Compared to New York?"

Adam wagged his head. "Point taken. She doesn't act all country though. She's pretty street savvy. Or so I'm told."

"She cute?"

"I showed you the picture."

"In the dark. I only really saw Stella. Is she cute?"

"I dunno. I work with her. Sure. She's cute." Adam dug his wallet out and handed the picture to Greg. He pointed at Lindsay. "That's her."

Greg smiled. "Hey. She is cute. She single?"

"I don't know. She and Danny were a thing for a while, but I don't know what's happening there. Why?"

"You should ask her out." Greg handed the photo back.

"We're treading on the asking about a sister territory again."

"You are just all about the family there, aren't you?"

Adam stared at the picture. "They helped me keep my job. Yeah."

Greg started working on the label on his beer bottle, caught up in his thoughts. He could appreciate the sentiment Adam held for his co-workers. There was still a little of that feeling left for his own co-workers, but it was shaky these days. Nick was taking outlandish risks with his life, Catherine was caught up with home life, Grissom was distant, and Riley was new. He felt awkward every time he was at work lately.

"Who wrote that one?"

Greg glanced at Adam, then the rule he was staring at:

**

* * *

527. The M.E. doesn't care why you've come to view the body wearing a dress and heels.**

* * *

"Our M.E., Robbins. I… I've got nothing here."

"That was _you_?"

"It was Halloween, I was called in from a costume party. My girl was the guy, I was the gal. I was told to go to the morgue first for the report. See, I was thinking of how to get everything done the fastest. Come to work, through that door we came in so no one saw me, get the report, go to the locker room and change, and then get to work. Robbins… Didn't see that way."

"Is he all about the procedure?"

"Yeah. He really is. David, his assistant, he's a kiss up to him, but when Robbins is gone, he's not so much. He's a marshmallow compared to Robbins."

"Sid isn't. That's our M.E. But he's also a lot more relaxed. He totally gets I hate being around dead bodies so I don't have to go in to pick up stuff. He'll meet me at the door with them."

"That's cool. Robbins isn't so nice to Hodges or Mandy. He makes them come and get it. That's when he'll play the 'I'm disabled' card. Really annoys them."

"That's cruel. So can I add a rule?"

"No."

"Come on. Let me add a rule."

"I said no! You're not on the crew. You can't add a rule."

"Tell them you added it."

"They know my handwriting."

"Tell them you were drunk."

"There's a rule about that."

"Where?"

"Right there. Rule number 441."

Adam looked up the rule and shrugged. "Okay. You were sleepy."

"Sleepy?"

"Doesn't it work?'

"Not so much. No."

"Please?"

"No."

Adam began repeating 'please' to which Greg repeated 'no,' until suddenly Greg bellowed, "Alright! What are you? Three?"

"Where's the chalk?"

"Over there. In the nightstand drawer."

Adam jumped up and found the chalk. "How do I get up there?"

"A chair or your super powers. Your call."

Adam found a chair and climbed up on it. He added:

**

* * *

528. I will not stare at a suspect in an attempt to use my mind powers to scare them into confession. (Adam's handwriting)**

* * *

Adam stepped off the chair and was grinning proudly as he grinned. Greg was staring at his beer bottle, picking at the label.

"What? Did I do it wrong?" Adam asked.

Greg looked at him, then the rule, shaking his head. "Naw. You didn't do it wrong."

"Then what's wrong?"

Greg smiled, looking back at him. "It's just been a long time since I've been down here and had real fun – like it was before everything around here went to hell. It feels good, normal."

Adam sat down on the chair. "It hasn't been good lately?"

"No. We had a CSI leave that had been here forever, Sara. She just up and left. I always thought we were friends, but she didn't even mention she was thinking of leaving. Then another CSI that had been here forever was shot – by the Under Sheriff."

"You're shitting me!"

"No. And Grissom's been acting strange since then. He's become real reclusive and distant. It's really hard when the man you look up to seems to be falling apart before your eyes."

Adam looked at the chalk in his hand. "I guess if Mac did that I'd feel that way too. Sometimes I have to remind myself he's human just so I don't forget he can mess up too."

"Yeah. I guess that we have to do that, don't we?"

Adam looked up at him. "I'm sorry I couldn't be around for all that. You should have called me. I would have come."

Greg smiled. "I know you would have, but… I have to deal with this myself. Isn't that being grown up?"

Adam shook his head. "No. Being grown up is knowing when you ask your best cousin for help. Even if it's just a phone call, it still works out. I'm always here to listen."

Greg grinned. "Are you going girly on me?"

Adam laughed. "Yes! And I have a dress and heels to match!"

The two laughed. Adam got up and turned to face the television. "Does this work?"

"Some days."

"Do you still like making fun of old movies?"

"Yes."

"Let's see if we can find one to make fun of." Adam flicked it on.

"You only have twelve channels to chose from."

Adam changed channels until he found an old black and white Godzilla movie. He grabbed his second beer and fell into the recliner.

"You can take me to the airport when it's over."

"K."

They spent the next hour finding all sorts of things in the movie to make fun of.

(This bred the New York wall, _CSI and Lab Rat No-No's._ More rules, more zany stories…)


	33. SpeakNSpell

33) Speak-N-Spell

The shift had been insane, especially with a copycat killer on the loose. At home, Catherine was dealing with Lindsay and her boyfriend – she wasn't ready to deal with it yet. Her mother with her experience was better suited to keep the girl on the straight and new. She found herself frequently sneaking away to The Wall after her shift to watch the morning news and read a book for a few hours. After all, they never met at Frank's anymore and since Grissom's announcement, everyone seemed to want to hide in their own shell.

She was surprised no one else had come down since she'd started this daily ritual. And no more rules had been added since rule 528, over three months ago. Maybe they'd given up on the rules and moved on since the team was slowly unraveling and falling apart. That made her sad, so she refocused her thoughts on her book.

Catherine slowly looked up when she heard the familiar sound of someone slipping between the filing cabinet and wall. Maybe she'd spoke, er, thought, too soon. Nick came in carrying a piece of paper and roll of tape. He turned and smiled when he saw her, then headed for the refrigerator.

"What are you doing?"

"Hanging something on the refrigerator."

She closed her book, leaning forward. "That looks like a list. Nicky, what are you doing?"

"I told you already."

"We already have a list. It's on the walls."

"This is a vocabulary list. It doesn't really fit on the walls."

"I have to read this before you put it up there."

Nick turned, staring at her.

"You can read it after I hang it up."

"I want to read it _now_."

"Geeze! I think you've gotten bossier, if that's even possible. Here."

Catherine just smiled and took it. She sat back, reading the first word and definition out loud. "**ACCOMPLICE: Any sibling or best friend that helped another sibling do something they weren't supposed to do.** That's not the definition of accomplice. What is this?"

Nick sat down on the arm of the chair. "I had two calls tonight that had kids and when I asked one if he knew what fingerprinting was, he gave me the definition on here. The other case, a kid overheard me tell an officer we needed something to hold the suspect on and gave me that one. So on my lunch I made a list of all the words I've ever had kids give me crazy definitions for."

She looked up at him, realizing there was more to this. "Did you give Grissom a copy?"

"He wasn't here. No."

"You should make him a copy."

Nick smiled, looking at the floor. "If you're done, I'll put it up. I have things to do today."

"You always have things to do today, ever since Warrick died."

Nick nodded, looking up at the walls. "This place feels strange these days."

Catherine agreed as she sat back in the recliner. "It's called change."

He grimaced, looking back at her. "I must be getting old or something. I'm not real keen on _change_."

She patted his hand. "That's not age, Nicky. That's normal."

"Why are you so calm about it?"

"I'm old. I'm used to change."

He laughed. "No. Really."

She shrugged. "Someone has to keep the boat afloat. Somehow I became that someone."

"Is that good? Or bad?"

Catherine looked at the list. Instead of answering, she smiled and read the next term, "**ALIBI: A character in the movie 'Aladdin.'** That is a very good answer. Do you remember how old this one was?"

"I remember how old they all were. This one was six, and Disney's Aladdin had just come out. I think she was a little confused about the character names."

"Sounds it. **ALS LIGHT: Strange blue light that kind of looks like a flashlight.** How did this kid know what the light looked like?"

"Too much TV, I think."

She chuckled, reading, "**BIOLOGY: The word mom and dad used a lot when trying to explain why I caught them in bed without clothes on.**" Catherine laughed so hard she began tearing up, well aware that Nick was staring at her.

"It was funny. It wasn't _that_ funny," he told her.

"Lindsay caught Eddy and me once when she was five. We had a lot of explaining to do."

Nick laughed.

"**BOIL: The point a parent becomes when the police ask their kid questions without them in the room.**"

"Creative little buggers, aren't they?" Nick asked.

"They make so much sense too."

"**CRIMANILIST: Someone who commits crimes and gets put on a list.**"

"That is one of my favorites. That one took a lot of creative."

**"****CRIME: Any time a younger sibling has stolen something from an older sibling and won't admit to it.**"

"Bradley. Age nine." Nick sighed, shaking his head.

"Special kid?"

"I just remember him. His younger cousin shot him by accident and I rode to the hospital with him. He told me that on the way there."

"**DETECTIVE: The guy on T.V. that never does anything but catch bad guys.**"

"Another case of our job glorified for the sake of entertainment."

"Hey, if it keeps people talking to us, I don't care." Catherine commented. "**DNA: Something mommy and daddy use when they don't want me to know what they're talking about.** Ohhhhhh! Now that's good. Really, really good."

Nick nodded.

"FEEDBACK: The result of something being fed with a child does not like. FINGERPRINTS: A colorful decoration made in art class, daycare, or summer camp. FIREARMS: Arms that are on fire, and FULL NAME: What a child is called when they've done something wrong and their parents are angry with them. Do any of your kids ever say anything boring?"

"Oh yeah. These are just my rare gems, that's all."

Catherine nodded. "So how many came up with this one? HANDCUFFS: Where your shirtsleeve meets your hand."

"Two, but completely unrelated."

She nodded, continuing, "HEARSAY: When a toddler or kindergartner repeats a dirty word. That's good. KITCHEN: The only room used to eat crumby snacks. True. Oh, I like this one! LAB: A big dog next door that likes it when I throw sticks for him. " Catherine laughed as she read the next one. "LATEX GLOVES: Balloon. Simple and I can see that how a child would think that, you're going to have to help me with this one. LUMINOL: Something that makes everything in the room brighter."

"That's a good one. Kevin was six and Sara and I didn't know he was still in the house. His mother hid him and his sister in separate places when someone broke into the house, then went out the back and to the neighbors to use the phone. The sister snuck out, leaving him. The robbers got into a dispute in the house and ended up stabbing and shooting each other. Well, we started spreading luminol everywhere before we knew he was there. In the middle of it, the luminol drew him out and he was fascinated by it. I told him what it was, but when he told his sister, that's what he told her it was."

"How cute. So, a magnifying glass is the thing you use to set ants on fire?"

"Didn't you know that?"

"No. Now what kid can't say this one is true POLICE CAR: The thing that makes daddy drop his cell phone when he sees it."

"Heck, I've done that when I went back to Texas or out of our jurisdiction."

"Me too. POLICE STATION: The place we go a lot because the mommy gets mad at the neighbor's band for playing when I'm in bed. This kid's mom must complain a lot?"

"I left out the part where he added, 'and when mommy is out with his girlfriends.'"

"Oo. Bet your glad you're not that husband."

"There are days I'm glad I'm not any husband."

"POLICEMAN: The nice guy that took me back to my parents and told them he'd ground them if they forgot me again. That's sad!" Catherine said.

"Yes. It was sad, but not in a bad way. It was sad because they had a huge miscommunication. He thought the kid was with her. She thought the kid was with grandma. Grandma didn't think the kid was even in Vegas – she was pretty tipsy. So when they realized that no one had the kid, they freaked out, called the police. Turns out the kid was at the buffet, eating loads and loads of sugar. I'm sure no one, including drunk granny, got much sleep for two or three days. That boy was bouncing everywhere!"

"I've never been so careless… Course… I've never taken Lindsay to Las Vegas to lose her."

Nick stared at her.

"What?"

"You live in Vegas."

"And so you understand my point."

He laughed. "How about this one?"

QUESTIONED DOCUMENTS: Things written in Word that you have to ask your teacher about.

"That's cute. And here are all the things my refrigerator is used for too.** REFRIGERATOR: The place for soda, cake, artwork, and hiding mom's chocolate.**"

"Really? You hide your chocolate in there?"

"Yep. In the back, in a bag of lima beans. She's never caught on. Yet."

"You are an unfair and unjust momma."

"Damn straight. These are so cute! **SPECIMEN SWABS: Things daddy uses to clean his ears, SUSPECT: The person mommy thinks let the wet dog in before grandma and grandpa came over, TRACE: What you do with a pencil and paper you can see through, **and **TWEEZERS: Something used to pull dad's beard when he's napping and snoring.**"

"I'm rather fond of the tweezer one myself. The kid was probably three, just learning to talk. So it really came out something like, I knowth whaf tweverth areth. When daddy sleep Sundayth, and snore, I pull hith beard and he maketh noiseth, rollth over, and stopped snort-thing."

Catherine was laughing so hard she had to lean over. She grabbed Nick's sleeve. "That is adorable!"

Nick just grinned. "Her name was Kayla. She had leukemia and died last summer. When I'd had a bad shift sometimes I'd go visit her. Even in the end she was always ready with a smile and a story. She liked to make them up and her mom would write them in this blank book as she told them. Said she might get it published someday."

Catherine sat back, watching Nick while he told the story. She wondered what other secrets about him she didn't know, what other amazing things he'd done that he'd never mentioned to anyone.

"She sounds like a very special little girl."

Nick nodded. "Yeah."

"So what about this **UV GOGGLES: Scientist goggles that make them look silly**, and **WITNESS: Someone the cops asks the same questions lots of times just in different ways.**"

"The goggles were Rachel, and the witness one was Chance. Chance had it really rough. Sixth child in a family of gang members. Even his mother was in a gang. The whole neighborhood was sure he'd become a gang member too. I met him when he was seven, when he said that to me. But he's doing well. He's doing great in school, plays football. He calls me for rides home when it's dark so he doesn't have to walk those streets alone. He's afraid some rival gang'll shoot him. Do you know what I helped him do?"

"What?"

"I had him come in one night and asked Grissom to help him write an essay for a scholarship so he could go to a private school."

"Did he get it?"

"No. But Grissom gave me a list of other scholarships and we just kept trying. He couldn't get enough to go to any school here, but he did for one in Pennsylvania. He starts next fall. He's excited too because he can get away from the guns and drugs – I hope, anyway."

She leaned forward, smiling at him. "You surprise me, Nicolas Stokes."

"I do?"

"Yeah. You should keep trying to find that right someone, and then have a whole bunch of kids. You'd be an excellent father."

Nick took the paper, shrugging. "Don't know about a whole bunch, but maybe one or two. I've made a promise to myself. If I turn forty-five and haven't married, I'm going to try to adopt. Find some siblings maybe and keep them together."

She smiled when he looked down at her.

"Think I'm crazy?" he asked.

"No. I think you are anything but."

Nick got up and taped the paper to the refrigerator. He turned, pointing at her.

"Hungry? I'll buy."

"Frank's?"

"Yep. See if my favorite red-headed waitress is still working."

"Sure." Catherine got up, slipped her book in her purse, and her purse on her shoulder.

The two left the room.

"No one has wanted to go to Frank's for a while," Nick commented.

She shrugged. "I've thought the same thing. Think we need to work on our communication skills."

Nick laughed, holding the door of records open for her.

"Thank you, sir."

He grinned, following her out.


	34. Self Invitation Required

34) Self Invitation Required

No advice had been offered Riley any advice when she started. Of course, she had started right smack dab in the middle of CSI searching for the person that murdered one of their own. By the time that was over with, she was just another employee. Shortly thereafter, the supervisor that everyone seemed to love the most left. Before that, Mandy had quietly told her over coffee one night, that a graveyard CSI who had been there as long as she could remember, just up and walked out one day. So it could stand to reason that Riley felt a bit on the outside of things.

Sure, everyone so far had been nice. Nick was the most patient partner she'd ever had – only Job had more patience than that man. Greg was fast with the wit. Catherine was nice, but firm, something Riley appreciated. She got along with all the lab techs, even Hodges; although there were days that after ten hours she had to put effort into not smacking him. But they weren't really her people. She didn't feel like she really fit in. Even when they invited her out to meals at their favorite diner, or drinks after Ray's first trial by fire

It was what they didn't invite her to, or stopped talking about when she entered the room, that made her feel like an outsider. There was a secret that graveyard kept under tight lip, as thought they were guarding the secret to life. She'd brought it up one night when she worked with Ronnie from swing shift.

Ronnie told Riley that everyone knew there was something graveyard was hiding, but no one knew what for sure. She said there were times when the CSI, several lab techs, and the graveyard M.E. would disappear off the face of the planet. No one could find them. Then, like a herd of whales, as she described it, they'd suddenly all show up in one elevator car. That was the only clue the group had never left the building.

They were careful, though. If they used badges to access their secret spot, they never used their badges wherever they disappeared to, leaving no log of where they went. They would disappear from anyone following them and even the lab techs were good at ditching CSI and other lab techs turned amateur sleuths.

Some believed they had some secret club house located in some forgotten air raid bunker that no one knew about, while others believed there was an attic door hidden somewhere on the top floor that only they had access to. Ronnie laughed and told Riley that the more creative lab techs believed they had some trans-dimensional device that led them go into a secret room only they could see. She added that those techs didn't get out much and most of them still lived with their mothers and believed Star Trek was next to godliness.

So one a night when Nick, and Greg, and Catherine, and Ecklie and Brass, just up and vanished for two hours, Riley decided she was going to get to the bottom of their vanishing act. To her, it felt like they were shirking their duties and leaving everyone else to do their work when they vanished for hours.

Weeks passed as she took her time to eavesdrop and observe. She would pull footage when they disappeared, and studied their patterns during the disappearing act.

Her investigation hit a sudden break when she suddenly realized they had a secret password they passed along to tell the others they were meeting: pineapple. They were crafty about hiding their secret word. They used it in sentences or wrote it on their hands to keep it hidden from the naïve observer. But Archie had made a mistake one day. He wrote it on his hand, picked up a soda can wet with condensation, and then sat his hand down on a white table top. She was eating her lunch at the other end and when she saw he and Greg hadn't noticed it left behind, she snatched her camera, hastily took photos, and wiped it away. Evidence preserved in digital stills, but gone otherwise.

From there, the case quickly developed and patterns became more evident to her. She noticed that they were more likely to disappear after a rough night, but as time between those nights passed, the disappearances became less.

Then Nick was kidnapped and nearly beaten to death. It erupted to almost every night for weeks. It became evident then that these disappearances weren't selfish or duty shirking. This group was banding together to help each other through the more severe pitfalls in life. She began to understand that she really didn't know much about the people she was working with, but that didn't deter her from finding their secret meeting place. Nothing in the world would have stopped her from that, not when she felt she was very close to discovering it.

Regardless, she finally pinpointed the place in the building they seemed to disappear off the face of the map: records. She had to wait another two weeks to finally get the day shift supervisor convinced to give her access – telling him that the computers updated at night and Catherine was forgetful of such seemingly unimportant matters. It was a lie, but he bought it. Then she waited for a night they disappeared. It came sooner than she'd anticipated. A shooting had occurred in the neighborhood Greg and Catherine were at. The normally unshakable Catherine had a brush with death when a bullet grazed her side, dangerously close to her kidney. She didn't let on she was scared, but when 'pineapple' got passed around, Riley used her deduction skills. Tonight it was Catherine's turn for support. On queue – she'd even gotten the timing down from the moment 'pineapple' began being passed around – they vanished, like clockwork.

Riley snuck off to the back stairs, down to the basement. She paused at the morgue and verified Doc Robbins and David were gone too. "No one's home, just us dead people." Riley moved through the hall to the records room and swiped her badge.

The beep it made should have been a five alarm buzzer for as loud as it sounded. She quickly slipped into records and stopped inside the door.

She'd never been here before and this room was a little intimidating to be seeing alone and for the first time.

The floor to ceiling shelves that filled the room were overwhelming to look at. It smelled musty, dank, and was probably as cold as the morgue if not more. This was the bone yard of bygone cases, catalogued, shelved, and forgotten until either a case came up that needed them, or they were carted away to the city hall basement when more space was needed. Both were rare, from what Riley had observed.

She heard a faint spiel of laughter. It was to her left, somewhere in the depths of the records room. Walking on the balls of her feet, making no noise, she crept along the shelves. She heard more laughter, and louder this time. She was at least headed in the right direction. As she drew closer to the end she heard muffled talking, and more laughter. Where they getting drunk? Or high? She hoped neither. Riley came to the end of the shelves and pushed against the last one as she slowly craned her neck so she could look down the row. It was dark down there, but when the next round of laughter erupted, she knew he was in the right area.

She backed up a row and walked down the row. Suddenly she heard a door open and in a panic looked for a hiding spot. There was none. She was in a row of shelves packed with boxes. She saw a desk at the end and on the balls of her feet dashed down the row.

She scudded across the open space toward a desk, catching sight of light coming through a door half hidden behind old, overstuffed filing cabinets. Riley slid and spun as she dove under the desk. She hit her elbow against a leg, and then her knee skidded across the rough cement floor.

There was no back of the desk – which was a good because it would have made a loud bang when she hit it. Instead, she hit the large, rough stones that lined the bottom of the wall, smacking her cheek against them. Instincts made her sit down hard and pull her legs to her chest, balling into the small area and trying to get into the darkest spot.

The whole thing took only fifteen seconds, but in Riley's mind it was the longest five minutes she'd spent in a while. She slapped her hand over her mouth to cover her soft panting and listened, and watched. There was talking and laughter coming from behind the door, and in a procession, the missing CSI, M.E., and lab techs emerged. Along with Gina the graveyard receptionist, Brass, and Ecklie. She'd been told that Ecklie was a hardass in the truest sense, but she questioned that as she watched him walk past joking with Nick and Greg about something. Everyone was in high sprits as they left, but she didn't observe any signs of intoxication or drug use. They just seemed to be naturally and completely happy. The last out was Henry. The light went out and she heard the door close. Riley pressed against the back wall, watching down the row. Would they see her?

They walked past not as co-workers, but a tight knit group of friends. They were planning on having breakfast later when everyone was off. Ecklie was going to get up early to join them. She heard Henry rib him about his runny poached eggs looking like some evidence he had upstairs. Ecklie joked back, saying he'd take a look. They might be.

And then the doors to the records room closed and silence followed. Riley dropped her hand to her knee, waiting to make sure they were gone. She counted off coconuts in her head until she reached fifty. Riley slowly climbed out, wincing when she brushed her skinned knee. Riley walked to the end of the filing cabinets and found a space between them and the wall. She laid her hand on the wall. Body after body sliding against it was wearing it to a smooth finish. The paint on the filing cabinets was wearing where bellies and butts had rubbed against them. Riley turned sideways and slipped her petite frame through the space to the door. She reached out, grabbed it, and turned it, expecting to find it locked. But it turned effortless in her hand and swung soundlessly as she pushed it open to let herself into the space behind it.

In the always on dim light from the records room, she could make out a couple dark forms. There was a flower print settee next to the door. The most ugly settee she'd ever seen, actually. She saw the vague shape of a television sitting against the wall. There was a table and a chair behind the door. She could see darker shapes further in, but she couldn't make anything out.

Riley turned and spotted the light switch next to the door. She reached out but then paused. It had stickers on it, most of them glowing stickers of stars and planets. She flicked the switch, lighting up the room. Next to the door, in chalk, was a poem. She almost stopped to read it when, in her peripheral vision, she caught sight of something scrawled across the wall to her right. She turned her head and awe hit her hard. Most of the wall space, all of the floor, and the table top were covered with writing in chalk. The sentences were numbered in various handwritings, assumedly the people who had just left.

Riley shut the door, walking to the middle of the room. As much awe as she felt, she also felt more out of place now than she had before. It felt more like she'd stolen someone's key and uninvited, opened their diary and started reading. Her eyes traveled to the furniture in the room. It was a mixture of furniture, all of it used. A sectional couch took up the far end of the room – which was almost as big at the largest lab upstairs. Perhaps it was that large. There were two recliners facing an old analog TV with rabbit ears covered in aluminum foil and connected to a digital convertor box. A rickety table held up the TV. Next to it was a mini-refrigerator with a microwave sitting on top. A wooden spatula was wedged into the door, probably to keep it shut. There was a small enameled metal cabinet next to it with a single drawer and a single door. Sitting on top of it was a small stack of books, mostly fiction.

So this was where—

"If the others know you're here, there'll be hell to pay, Riley," she heard Catherine say.

Riley turned, staring at her. Catherine's expression was hard to read. She didn't look angry or okay with finding Riley in here. Riley watched her walk over to the table and pick up her purse, slipping a compact, mascara tube, and package of Kleenex back in it. Catherine didn't shoulder the bag. Instead she turned and sat down on the edge of the table, holding Riley's stare again.

"Did you hear me?" Catherine asked.

Riley nodded. She didn't know what else to say. The big secret she thought they were keeping was big, but not in the least what she was expecting.

"In other words," Catherine continued, "you were never here and you know nothing about this place. And that's the way it has to be until they decide to tell you about it."

"They're going to tell me about it?"

"In another four and half months, yes."

"Four and a half months? Why so long?"

"That will be your six month anniversary. We'll all vote, which I'm fairly certain will be unanimous, and someone'll bring you down here. You'll have to act surprised. They're very protective of The Wall Crew and The Wall. I imagine…" Catherine looked at the wall. "They could get pretty nasty if someone ever told someone outside of the crew about The Wall. It's kind of like a secret retreat for us, see. We come here when we need a pick-me-up or we just need a break from out there." Catherine motioned in the direction that Riley assumed was outside. She looked back at the new CSI, watching her.

"You're not mad I'm here?"

Catherine smiled. "With your record? Not at all. We talked about you tonight, about letting you know early, but, majority overruled, and tradition was upheld."

"Who voted against me?"

"Doesn't matter. Besides, it really wasn't about you anyway. Like I said, Riley, the Wall Crew take this secret very seriously. It always amazed Grissom and me just how seriously they took it. You really do have to keep it a secret. Ecklie… He might fire you if you ever told anyone."

"That wouldn't be ethical."

"Ecklie's not known for being ethical when he's mad. My advice is to never try getting him there. He's like a raging bull going after a dog and anyone in the way gets run over."

Riley wasn't going to argue that. After all, Ecklie hadn't said more than a few kind words to her and that was in passing.

"You mentioned The Wall Crew. Is that what the group calls itself?"

Catherine nodded.

"And The Wall…" Riley looked at the wall, motioning at it.

"The entire room is The Wall."

Riley glanced at her. She walked along wall to rule number one.

"These look like rules."

"Yes. It started out as things lab rats aren't allowed to do anymore. Greg started it."

"When he was a lab tech?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"He had an incident with some luminal. Completely destroyed evidence with it to impress a girl."

"A tech?"

"A reporter."

Riley skimmed rule to rule. She lost track of time as she slowly read them.

"Do these rules have stories behind them?"

"All of them do." Catherine's voice changed slightly when she added, "but the people that wrote some of them have left or passed. I don't remember all of the stories behind them anymore."

"Are most of them comical?"

"Yes. Most of them are. Like the ones there about the circus. Grissom sent Nick, Greg, and Warrick to a crime scene at a circus. They had the entire circus mad at them and were ready to quit after that."

Riley glanced back, smiling when she asked, "A three ring circus?"

Catherine chuckled. "More like a three tent circus. It was pretty bad."

Riley smiled, reading again in silence.

"Were rules written tonight?" she asked after several minutes.

"Yes. We started at 529."

Riley moved down to that rule, reading it:

**

* * *

529. ****I am not allowed to tell anyone that "I come on orders of Ecklie of the Shiny Forehead." (**_**Submitted by DustBunnyQueen**_**)**

* * *

"What is this one about?"

"I really don't know. Whatever it is, I think Hodges got a little jealous of the joke Ecklie and Wendy shared about it. This next one Nick wrote for Ray. Remember last week when he and Nick had that pregnant suspect?"

**

* * *

530. Beware of the 36 weeks pregnant suspect.**

* * *

"The one that went into labor? The one he delivered at the crime scene? The one that the DA threw out because the baby was delivered at the crime scene?"

Catherine laughed. "Unfortunately, Riley, babies don't really care where they get delivered at. When it's time, it's time."

Riley laughed. "I guess you'd be the only one that would know that."

Catherine shrugged a little.

"Did you hear that the woman named the baby Ray?"

"Yeah. Nick said she should have named it after him. It was his groin she kicked during it. Who's Dexter Morgan?

**

* * *

531. We do not arrest suspects named 'Dexter Morgan' on the suspicion they **_**could**_** be serial killers.**

* * *

"Some character on some show that apparently everyone in the lab watches, except for us old people. That was aimed at Brass, though, so I guess he watches it too. Apparently that was his excuse for arresting a guy."

"He didn't really think a guy with fictional character's name was really a serial killer? Did he?"

Catherine laughed. "As it turns out, the guy wasn't a serial killer of people. He was a poacher, though."

Riley smiled, and went on to the next one:

**

* * *

532. 'We were short handed and she volunteered' does not excuse you for bringing a mannequin in to help process evidence.**

* * *

"Mannequin?"

"You may never see it in the field… well, _YOU_ may never see it in the field, but Nicky and Gregg-o are the worst pranksters. If you'd been around when Warrick was alive, there were nights they pranked to the verge of being fired. That is a Nick and Greg prank. Their ingenious answer of how to deal with budget and personnel cuts."

Riley's giggles turned to laughter. "And suddenly everything makes perfect sense!"

"What's that?"

"I saw Nick that morning carrying a mannequin out to his truck. I asked him if he'd brought his girlfriend to work. He told me, this was his stand in. I didn't get it, he didn't explain it, and now, suddenly, it makes perfect sense."

"The next one is Greg at his finest. Wendy was going to _kill_ him that night."

**

* * *

533. We do not claim squirrels were aiding and abetting anyone.**

* * *

"Why?" Riley asked.

"She's afraid of squirrels, it turns out. Said they are nothing more than rats, which she's also afraid of."

"And so what does that have to do with squirrels?"

"He brought a squirrel in from a crime scene at a park and claimed it had aided and abetted our suspect."

"Was he on something?"

"No. That was how Greg was before you came around. Every so often, that Greg shows up and we just shake our heads and roll with it."

"Can't wait to meet him. Is this about the coffee maker that died?"

**

* * *

534. If a break room device dies, we are not allowed to have a full-blown investigation to confirm it was accidental.**

* * *

"And the microwave, and the toaster, and the hot plate." Catherine answered. "Sometimes our lab rats go CSI on us. It can be a little frightening."

"Was this the guy that Nick chased into the mud puddle?"

**

* * *

535. Fleeing suspects always take the hard way out with no regard to your safety.**

* * *

"Oh nooooo." Catherine grinned. "That's the guy that Brass chased out of the house, over the fence, through the sticker patch, over the barbed wire fence, into the chicken coop, over the chicken coop, into the backyard, away from the angry dog, over the next fence, onto the freeway – where the suspect was hit and died on scene."

"I missed that, I think."

"We all did. He said it was a day he considered taking a desk job. He hasn't run like that since he stopped being a beat cop."

"Is this one of the M.E.s?"

**

* * *

536. The weight of the dead body you have to transport is proportional to the number of stairs you'll have to climb.**

* * *

"Robbins said it's an old M.E. saying, kind of like a Murphy's Law for medical examiners."

"Do you think it's true?"

"I don't have to transport bodies out of a building, but I bet it is. After all, it is a crime scene. When all things go right, something is wrong. Isn't it?"

Riley laughed, pointing at the next rule and asking, "What the hell?"

**

* * *

537. I will not claim the inflatable sheep is conspiring for world domination when I've forgotten to set the timer for the PCR test. (**_**Submitted by emeraldxisle47**_**)**

* * *

"Bobby and his inflatable sheep."

"Bobby has an inflatable sheep?"

"You haven't seen his inflatable sheep?"

"No. Why does he have an inflatable sheep?"

"We don't know. He said he got it in college and everyone has pretty much stopped him there. We're not sure we want to know, even if he claims he's told his daughter and it's that innocent."

"Bobby has a daughter?"

"Yeah."

"He's married?"

"No. He adopted his partner's daughter."

"Bobby's gay?"

"Yes."

"I never would have thought that of him."

Catherine just smiled.

"Which of our disastrous duo is this?" Riley asked.

**

* * *

538. I may not tell a suspect that saying my name three times will cause "bad things to happen."**

* * *

"Nick. He told this really drunk driver who kept calling him Nicky Picky that."

"And if he didn't stop, he'd beat him up?"

"Then he'd turn into a goblin and eat his head."

"You're kidding?"

"If only I were."

"Wow. I really don't know Nick, I guess. Was this his complaint?"

**

* * *

539. The day of the biggest crime scene of the year is the day you will have forgotten to schedule TIVO to record your show and will be unable to get to a cell phone or computer in time.**

* * *

"No. That was mine. So was the next one."

**

* * *

540. To pass the time, I probably shouldn't ask an officer what rules he or she would make up for things lab rats and CSI shouldn't do. They will never shut up!**

* * *

"Did the officer go on for hours?"

"Two hours and thirty-seven minutes later he finally finished his list. Then he asked why I'd asked him. I lied like a rug."

Riley sat down on the table next to Catherine. "Who got in trouble for that?"

**

* * *

541. We do not say 'screw the press' when we are asked to do an interview – even when our back is turned to them. (**_**Inspired by 'its not you its me'**_**)**

* * *

"Henry."

"Henry? Always sweet and happy Henry?"

"Oh, Riley, you poor girl. You know so little about your co-workers."

"Henry has a temper?"

"A wicked, wicked temper. It's a rare thing. It's a short lived thing. And he's at least smart enough to not direct it toward his superiors. But if you're press, more if your press than any other, or you're a suspect, and you find that well hidden button, he comes off all over your ass. Luckily, raising his brother seems to have buried it a little deeper. But last week, when that banker president was shot, they were after everyone that worked here. His little brother meets him here in the mornings, they have breakfast, and then he takes him to school before heading home to bed. The press attacked on his way out and someone hit his little brother in the face, gave the kid a bloody nose. It was an accident, I'm sure, but that set him off. We were amused by the remark, until the Mayor called and ordered him to apologize."

"I saw that on the news. The remark part. I didn't know the rest of that. Everyone said his brother went to ULV. I thought he was older."

"He does go to ULV."

"Oh. Guess genius runs in that family."

"According to Henry, it goes about seven generations back. Between you and I, if I ever decided to have in vitro, I would beg for him to donate."

The two giggled at the secret.

"Knowing what I know now, me too. Course, I'd probably convince him to do it the natural way."

"You like Henry?"

Riley blushed.

"Really? You like Henry?"

"He's cute in an adorable way. Strange though, that's not usually the type I go for. Don't say anything. Dating co-workers is just asking for trouble."

"Your secret's as safe as mine. Right?"

"Yes. Nick or Greg?"

**

* * *

542. It is wrong to throw a book at someone for suggesting I wasn't doing something 'by the book.'**

* * *

"You're off again, Riley. Brass. And it wasn't really a book. It was a notebook. And he didn't really throw it at the person, he threw it in the person's general vicinity."

"In other words, he threw his notebook at the person."

"We may never know."

"Is this Archie? He's such a Star Trek fan."

**

* * *

543. I am not some captain from the future sent back to save the whales.**

* * *

"No and you know what that's even talking about?"

"It's from a Star Trek movie. It was Archie, wasn't it?"

"No. It was Nick. We had yet another run in with drugs at a crime scene and—"

"Oh wait. Wait. It was the pillowcases at the dealer's house. The ones that I shook to check for drugs and blew a puff of dust into Nick's face. That wasn't dust, was it?

"Noooooo." Catherine grinned. "Remember you told me he bolted out of there right after that and just disappeared on you?"

"Yes."

"He called me and told me what happen and in minutes, he was all sorts of happy. We brought him down here to baby-sit him until he came down. Again."

"Again? It's happened to him before?"

"He had cocaine laced flour thrown in his face. Yes. He seems to be attracted to those situations. Ecklie gave him a hard time when he came down. Said he was going to start thinking Nick was setting these situations up just so he could get high without really getting high."

Riley leaned close. "Maybe he is. Maybe he _planted_ that cocaine in those pillow cases before the crime ever happened."

Catherine laughed. "Am I going to have to worry about you adding to their trouble?"

"Ma-wah? Never! Now who would take a pint of ice cream into the morgue?"

**

* * *

544. The M.E. doesn't care why you have brought a pint of ice cream to view a body.**

* * *

"That is between Nick and Robbins. You missed a good argument between them a little bit ago."

"Really? They got into a fight?"

"I don't think it was a real fight. Robbins told him he didn't care for the Rocky Road jokes with a pint of Rocky Road for a customer who had been found on the rockiest road on Spring Mountain. Nick said the point had to be made, if nothing else, for the deceased. Robbins threatened to confiscate his ice cream if he ever brought it into the morgue again. We were amused, even if it was real."

Riley laughed. "What I miss when I'm not looking. Is this Greg?"

**

* * *

545. We do not bring squirrels in for questioning.**

* * *

"Greg and Wendy at it again. She threatened to fire him if he brought even one more squirrel in the lab."

"She can't fire him."

"I think she'd do it anyway as mad as she was about it last night."

"Is that what was wrong with her? Where was I?"

"1452 Rose Avenue. Ruled it as a suicide."

"Oh yeah. So is that about Nick's fireworks?"

Catherine looked up, nodding.

**

* * *

546. I should not assume the fireworks have all burned out when I move them to my vehicle for transport (**_**Inspired by jevans47403**_**)**

* * *

"That's a lesson I don't think any of us will forget any time soon," Riley laughed. "He's lucky Ecklie didn't take it out of his check."

Catherine started laughing. "You were there? Did you see it?"

"Yeah."

"He swears he thought they were out."

"_I_ thought they were out. It could have easily happened to me."

"What did his face look like when they went off in the Denali?"

"Cross between 'What the hell?' and 'Oh fuck!' He didn't know whether to run and hide or start a bucket brigade. I'm just glad it was the first thing he loaded and not the last, we would have lost all the evidence when that Denali went up like… Like a roman candle."

The two laughed.

"I don't think I'll ever let him live that down," Catherine admitted. "Or his speeding tickets on the job."

**

* * *

547. You can get ANYWHERE in ten minutes if you go fast enough.**

* * *

Riley nodded. "I have noticed he has a brick of lead on that right foot. Sometimes, I don't think even he knows how fast he's going."

"He blames it on always driving in open spaces back home."

"In Austin?"

"That's what I always ask. He just shrugs and comes up with a new excuse. That's my Nicky. It's like raising a teenager all over again with him and Greg."

Riley laughed. "So everyday you trade one crazy home for another?"

"Yes. Pretty much. That was his next contribution tonight. I wasn't sure whether to laugh or ring his scrawny neck."

**

* * *

548. Always fear a supervisor who is abnormally happy.**

* * *

"So why were you in an abnormally good mood yesterday?"

Catherine just smiled. Riley leaned in.

"Come on. It's just us girls."

Catherine said nothing. Only smiled.

"And will you and mystery man be doing it again _soon_?"

Catherine smiled, but felt a slight heat in her cheeks.

"I take that as a yes."

"Let's talk about pork, and why we don't ask about it at a crime scene, even if there are pigs."

**

* * *

549. I should not ask if the pork has arrived on the scene before or after I did, even if the crime scene is at a pig farm.**

* * *

Riley sat up, gripping the edge of the table. "It's not that much of an offense. I think it's all in how you say it."

"Really? I've never seen it go over well. Especially when Greg tries to joke about it."

"You're talking about Greg. Mister Foot-In-Mouth does a real good job at saying what he shouldn't and then looking like he didn't know he said it."

"That's our Greggo. We love him, even for all his faults. Including abusing Bobby's poor sheep."

**

* * *

550. Inflatable sheep are not allowed to graze on the lab front lawn.**

* * *

"How do I keep missing all this stuff?"

"I told you. You have to be initiated into the group first, and then you'll start seeing it all around you. Even the undead stuff."

**

* * *

551. The lab does not have an army of evil, undead, zombie squirrels. (**_**Submitted by DustBunnyQueen**_**)**

* * *

"Undead and zombie's in the same sentence? Aren't they the same?"

Catherine's eyebrows lifted as she looked at Riley. "How would _you_ know that?"

"Girl's gotta have her little secrets, doesn't she? Although, that next one… What?"

* * *

**552. Not all dead people are dead.**

* * *

"Oh, that was David's contribution after Nick and he found Natalie."

"That was months ago."

"David is a little slow with his rules. It's like he has to spend time thinking about just the perfect way to word them."

"I can only imagine how that must drive the missus nuts."

"It would me," Catherine admitted.

* * *

**553. Not all suspects lie.**

* * *

"Nick or Greg didn't write that… Did they?" Riley asked

"No. That was one of Henry's insightful observations."

"Oh. Is he against clowns, too?"

**

* * *

554. Clowns are considered guilty even after they're proven innocent.**

* * *

"No. That's Nick. Nick's only racist bone in his body is against clowns. Apparently when he was a child a clown ruined his birthday party and ever since then, he can't stand them."

Riley started laughing hard. "Nick's scared of clowns?"

"Not scared. Hates. There's a difference. He has a personal vendetta against anyone who is a clown. I might have to assign you once with him when there's a clown involved, just so you can watch him. It reminds me of five-year-old throwing a tantrum when Grissom had to assign him. He tried not because he knew Nick hated them, but sometimes it couldn't be helped."

"Did he throw himself on the floor and kick too?"

"There were a few times I thought he might."

Riley laughed. "Now… I know that one is your handwriting."

**

* * *

555. I am no longer allowed to use the parking garage as a location to test any driving games that a suspect or victim may have engaged in. (Such as mailbox baseball.)**

* * *

"Nick and Hodges were testing a theory for a case shortly after you arrived. In the parking garage. After some thought, I decided we should probably not have it happen again. I could see one of them ending up with a dislocated shoulder like a victim had."

"How much thought was put into this, do you think?"

Catherine scoffed at the thought any thought had. Riley laughed.

"After he ate the fly in his soup at Frank's, that has to be Nick."

**

* * *

556. I will not swap my random drug test sample with apple juice and then drink it in front of the tester. (**_**Inspired by its not you its me**_**)**

* * *

Catherine sighed, shaking her head with mock sadness. "Unfortunately, no. It was the one person I never, ever, would have imagined. It was Mandy."

"_Mandy_?"

"Sadly, yes. It was Mandy. She was protesting the random drug tests we have. It filtered back to Ecklie and I."

"So… How often do they break the rules on the wall?"

"Break? Never. That's sort of an unspoken rule. Once the rule has been written, it cannot be broken. At least, the circumstances that led to it being added cannot be repeated. Unfortunately, the boys – and it's almost always the boys – like to bend the rule. A lot."

Riley hopped onto her feet. "Where's the chalk? I have one."

"You can't add a rule. I told you, Riley, if they know you know before you've been invited into the group, hell will break loose. They're protective of this place."

"Then you add it for me. Because if Hodges and Archie do it again, I'm breaking fingers."

Catherine slid off the table and walked over to the metal cabinet. She pulled open the drawer, taking out a piece of chalk, then moved the stool under the rule.

"I'm probably going to have to talk to them once you tell me this, but shoot."

**

* * *

557. I will not use my TV-B-Gone when CSI are reviewing case video.**

* * *

Catherine backed down the stool, and then looked at Riley.

"What exactly is a TV-B-Gone?"

"It's this device that shuts off televisions from about fifty feet away. And I was reviewing some surveillance footage and it kept turning off. All the televisions around me kept turning off. When I finally figured out I was being messed with, they were laughing. I was ready to kill them."

Catherine laughed. "Should I talk to them?"

"No. I told them that if they ever did it again, I'd break the device first, and then report them."

"Did they apologize?"

"Hodges got mad, I think. But Archie did and bought me supper. I forgave them."

Catherine put the chalk back. "I have no worries about you fitting in here, Riley." Catherine walked up to a wall, gently patting the cold bricks. "We should have come sooner. It brings white magic."

"What brings white magic?"

Catherine smiled as she turned. She walked over and shouldered her purse. "Let's go have breakfast."

Riley didn't move. She watched Catherine disappear around the door, and then looked at the wall. She didn't get what Catherine meant. Maybe when she was officially included and could be with the group, she would. Riley walked over to the door, flicked the light switch, shut the door, and followed Catherine.


	35. My CSi Wall Crew Family

35) My (CSI) Wall Crew Family

Langston sighed. He stopped what he was doing, stepped back, and glared at the bed sheets. They were covered in blood, but whatever had happened before or during the murder, had tangled them so much they were almost knotted. The blood had time to congeal and turned into a sticky adhesive that only added to the mess.

He turned his head when Nick walked up beside him, also staring at the bed. He looked up at Langston.

"Problems?"

"You could say that."

"What is it?"

"The sheets aren't cooperating. I need to separate them so I can get them in a bag."

"Naw. You don't need to do that."

"But they could have trace."

"That's right, but the point is to get them, and the trace, to the lab. Sometimes, Ray, you have to think outside the box."

"I should put them in a box?"

"You gotta box that'll work?"

"No."

"Guess not then."

"You're not going to tell me how to fix this, are you?"

Nick shook his head. "If you haven't figured it out by the time I've finished the rest of the house, I'll help you." Nick headed for the door.

"Nick, that could be all night."

"I know it. Sucks, but after eight months, you gotta figure this out for yourself."

Ray stared at the door, and then glared as soon as Nick was gone. He was having a bad night. It had begun with bad dreams. Then he'd burned his supper. Followed by three crime scenes where nothing seemed to be going right. He was tired, he was hungry, he was cranky.

He turned back to the bed, trying to sort out a solution.

* * *

Crime scene number five. Langston and Nick hadn't even had time to get their evidence to the lab. They'd had to meet Hodges on the freeway, hand it off, and head on to the next one. Nick rode shotgun while he finished up notes. Langston pulled up behind a patrol car. The two got out, grabbed their kits, and started up the driveway.

"Thank we might have a serial killer," Brass said as the two walked up.

"Why's that?" Nick asked.

"Actually…" Brass stopped Nick, grinning. "Maybe you should send for Greg and let him handle this one."

"Why?" Nick asked with open suspicion.

"Well… He's dealt with this before. Maybe he's learned something in the last couple years."

Nick tilted his head a little. "Jim… What is it?"

"Hey, tell 'em to open the garage door," he told a nearby officer.

The garage door opened. Sitting in the middle of the garage on a chair was a person covered in black tar and feathers. To Langston's surprise, Nick started laughing. Then Brass. Then several of the policemen joined in.

"I don't see the humor," Langston admitted. "The person is dead."

Nick took a couple minutes to get a hold of himself.

"I'm sorry. Really sorry. But I keep going back to Greg's tar and feathered vic. He fought and fought with that stuff and to this day still can't figure out how to get it off…" Nick started laughing again. He patted Langston's shoulder. "Wanna take a stab at this one? Maybe you'll do better than Greg."

Langston heaved a sigh. "Fine."

He headed for the corpse, not noticing Nick's laughter die. Brass stopped too.

"He's not in a good mood," Brass commented.

"No. Been that way since the shift started."

"He doesn't know about this morning, does he?"

Nick shook his head. "We kept it secret. But it's time."

"I think so. He has a decent sense of humor, most of the time. He'll be a good edition. Hey, there's some things inside I want you to take a look at."

The two headed for the front door.

* * *

Langston finished typing the last paragraph of his report. He saved it and stood up.

"Hey."

Langston turned. Greg stood in the door. He smiled.

"Heard you gotta Tar Man too."

"I have."

"I hope you have better luck."

"I do too. I heard you didn't with yours."

Greg shook his head.

"Perhaps I can find a way to remove it without damaging the body and maybe preserving trace. If so, we could exhume your John Doe and see if we can't solve both cases."

Greg held up a key card. Turned it so Langston could see both sides. "Ever seen one of these?"

Langston picked his with his I.D. on it and held it up. "I have one. Remember?"

"Yeah, but have you seen one without any I.D. on it?"

Langston smiled. Was this a prank or joke? "I can't say as I have."

Greg narrowed his eyes. "Really? You haven't noticed them?"

Langston dismissed the idea of a prank or joke. "No. I haven't."

"Come, Doctor Langston. I will show you wonders like none you have ever witnessed before." Greg turned and started walking. "Come."

Langston smiled. After his hard shift, he was more than happy to give into Greg's antics. He needed a good laugh. The young man led Langston to the elevators and he let Langston on first. He tapped the button for the basement.

"Will there be cancan girls?" Langston asked.

Greg grinned. "No. No cancan girls. Ecklie wouldn't allow that." Greg thought a second. "Or would he? That back door is _still_ broken…"

"What back door?"

"You have much to learn, young grasshopper."

The elevator doors opened at the basement and Greg led him off, and down the hall towards records.

"Las Vegas is rich with history. A lot's happened here."

"Yes. I know. This is about history?"

"More or less. Have you ever been part of living history?"

Greg stopped at the record's door to swipe his badge. Suddenly Langston felt tired. He wasn't interested in reading old case files.

"Greg, perhaps we could do this another time. I'm tired, it's been a long shift, and—"

Greg turned, leaning in. "You don't trust me?"

"Of course I do, it's just—"

"If you trust me, you'll follow me."

"Why are you being cryptic?"

"You'll know when you see it. Come on." Greg held open the door for him.

Langston turned to leave. "I'm going home. See you tonight."

"The others weren't nearly as difficult to convince.

That stopped Langston. "What others?"

There were others? Others for what? He turned and Greg grinned. He knew he'd just grabbed Langston.

"Wanna see?"

Langston sighed and followed him into records. Greg turned left.

"You see, this very building is full of history, which is fine and all, but trust me, being part of living history is something unique." Greg glanced up at him. "Does that make any sense?"

"Yes, although I have no idea what you're referring too."

Greg nodded. "You will."

He turned at the last row of shelves. Langston had been down here several times to dig up old files or cold cases, but he never recalled seeing a door back here. The only reason he noticed it now was because light was coming around the hard edges, defining what it was.

"Is that new? That door?"

"Nope. Been here all along. No one ever sees it until we let them. Watch the corner of the filing cabinet there. It's been biting people lately."

Langston heard talking inside, mixed with music and glass taping every so often. A spiel of laughter ran out the door. Now he was glad he hadn't left when he'd had half the mind to. He didn't have to see what was inside to know there was something special beyond that door.

Greg squeezed through the space between the wall and filing cabinet, and through the door.

"He's here!" he heard several voices shout.

"Almost had to drag him here by his hair."

"Wouldn't that have been difficult to do? There isn't much there?" he heard David ask.

Langston squeezed through the space and through the door into The Wall…

"Welcome to your induction to The Wall Crew, Ray!" Catherine called out with a smile.

Congratulations ran around the room, several pats on the arm and back. After the hearty welcome, and putting a cold beer in his hand, the group explained The Wall. Langston only heard about half of it. He stared at the lines and lines of rules. He'd always wondered where several of the night crew sometimes vanished to, but never thought much about it. After particularly rough nights, he'd go out to leave and see their vehicles still in the parking garage, but they were nowhere to be found.

He turned when something smooth and hard was pressed into his empty hand. Catherine held the chalk in his hand until he closed his fingers around it.

"So? Do you want to give it a try?" she invited him.

"I… Am not ready yet. I'll let someone else go first."

"We all said that our first time here," David said.

"Speak for yourself," Mandy said.

"Yes, but you didn't tell us you knew. You made us guess until you and Nick plotted and schemed."

"And it was a fine plot and scheme," Nick said.

"If you think so," Sara jabbed. "I'll go first. In ode to our wonderful bowler case – not to be confused with a bowler hat."

Most of the crew booed her terrible joke.

"Actually, that was one of Greg's – and so help me, if you people leave me alone at another bowling alley crime scene with him, there might just be another homicide." She wrote:

**

* * *

557. While working a bowling scene crime scene, it is bad to use every bowling joke, quote, one-liner, quip, remark, jab, parody, wisecrack, pun, and retort I have in my collection.**

* * *

"Hey. You laughed every time," he argued.

"No. No I didn't."

"You looked like you were laughing."

"I wasn't laughing at your jokes, Greg. I was laughing at the images I had of cutting off _your_ head and sending it up the ball return."

'Oooooo,' went around the room.

"She gets married, she gets crotchety. I'm staying single forever."

"You're staying single cuz no woman in her right mind would marry you," Mandy jabbed.

"What is this? Get Greg night?"

"No. We just haven't found anything good to get Hodges for, yet," Robbins told him.

Everyone but Hodges laughed.

"I resent that!" was the best he could come up with. Then he grabbed Sara's chalk and added:

**

* * *

558. There is no known religion that followers wear capes on their 'day of worship.' (_Inspired by DustBunnyQueen_)**

* * *

He turned, glaring at Archie.

"Well… That explains a lot," Langston commented.

"What?" Archie asked.

"The cape you wore the other day. The yellow, satin cape," Hodges told him. "The one you said you had to wear on your day of worship."

Archie just smiled. "Yes. It was a pretty yellow cape, wasn't it?"

"Oh god. Kill me now," Wendy laughed. "Oh! I just thought of something we can make fun of Hodges for." She held her hand out for his chalk.

He held it to his chest, away from her.

"Give."

He wouldn't give.

"Giiiiive, Hodges."

"Have mine," Langston said.

She took his, smirking at Hodges.

"Whatever it is, I emphatically deny right now. I didn't do it. It was someone else."

Wendy printed:

**

* * *

559. Even though it makes everything pretty and neat, I may not gift wrap evidence before giving it to someone. (_Submitted by CSIfreak24 and a friend_)**

* * *

"YES!" Nick said, raising his hands. "Someone finally put it on the wall! _YES_

!"

"Thank God, is all I can say," Ecklie said.

"But… They were pretty and neat. Great for birthdays. Nobody liked them?"

"One?" Sara asked. "Sure. Ten or twelve? Not so much."

"Oh. I see how it is."

David held his hand out for a chalk. Wendy handed her's over. He wrote:

**

* * *

560. I will not admit there is a whodunit betting pool anywhere in the building. (_Submitted by __VessaMorana_) **

* * *

"That's not really a rule," Ecklie said.

"No. It's more like a guideline."

"No. It needs to be a rule not to do it."

At different tempos, the room minus Langston recited, "Once it's written on the wall, it cannot be erased."

Langston laughed. "Conrad, am I to assume this is an unspoken rule?"

"Unfortunately. Chalk, Hodges." Ecklie held out his hand.

Hodges not only held it to his chest, but also pretended to hide behind Wendy. It made them all laugh.

David handed over his chalk and Ecklie added:

**

* * *

561. It is bad to give John and Jane Doe's 'unique and identifiable names.' For example: Blondie Dagwood, Barney Rubble, Nell Fenwick, Dudley Dorite, Tweet Bell, Heckle Jeckle, Twiggy Sanders, Boob Job, Dead Sayl S'Man, Cleanup Inaisle Slevin, Dead Drunk Dude, Betty Boop, Gril Killedby-Porkchop, Gotta Getta MeGucci-Feminis, Professor Pat Pending, Red Max Crimson, Devil Worn Prada, Morg-in Blues, Comex Artus, Voltaire Frenchman, Luke Bear, Rufus Ruffcut, Speedle Racer, Yogi Bear, William Barbera, Joseph Hanna, London Calling, Redshirt Dumed, Mightb MacGuyver, Fin Al Count-Down, En R. Gizer, or Running Paynt Sapien. (_Inspired by Crimson Angel Winges_)**

* * *

"That's like half our list! That's not cool. Not cool at all!" Greg protested.

Ecklie smirked. "But once written, it can't be erased."

"You are disowned as a supervisor. Please check your rank at the door," Mandy told him.

Nick grabbed Hodge's chalk and wrestled it away. He wrote:

**

* * *

562. Murphy hates you. Don't tempt him. (_Inspired by Augusta_)**

* * *

"Sadly, Nicky, that is far too true," Catherine said and sighed.

"And in so many ways."

She held her hand out for his chalk. She added:

**

* * *

563. We do not report to supervisors or press that a deceased victim is in 'fine,' 'cherry,' 'prime,' or 'outstanding' condition. **

* * *

"Aw come on!" Nick and Greg cried out.

"No!" she told them, pointing at one nose and then the other. "Bad CSI. Bad!"

They laughed. She added under it:

**

* * *

564. White or light colored clothing naturally attracts blood. **

* * *

"Hey. I wore a grey shirt to one and didn't get a spot of blood on it."

"You're a guy. You don't count," Wendy told him.

"Yes, but even we men have issues." Langston held his hand out. "May I?"

"You bet," Nick tossed him his chalk.

"This one is long overdue, I think." Langston printed:

**

* * *

565. Wearing a tie to a crime scene will result in it becoming evidence.**

* * *

"Memories of your first day?" David asked.

"I loved that tie. It was my lucky tie, you know."

"And now it's your cut lucky tie," Catherine commented.

"You should have warned me, Catherine. You said I could wear anything without logos, clothes had to be clean, and no red T-shirts. You said nothing about ties."

"Are you telling me I have to buy you a tie?"

"I would never tell anyone to buy me a tie." Langston returned to his spot. "Never."

She laughed. "I'll take it under consideration."

"Oh. I have one. I just had a conversation with the Chief about this," Brass told them. He took Ecklie's chalk and wrote:

**

* * *

566. It is bad to premise a public apology with, "Against my will and better judgment…"**

* * *

"I told you that would be bad," Catherine told him. "You should have listened to me."

"But it felt good at the time. It was worth it."

"What are we talking about? Where were we?" Greg asked.

"You were buying hair gel," Catherine told him.

"I don't use hair gel."

"For testing a theory at a crime scene, Greg."

"Oh!"

"Mom, I think Greg's blond is kicking in!" Many called out. "Either that or he's running on fumes."

"Don't call me mom, and I stop babysitting after they're twenty-one."

"That's not what I've seen," Ecklie jabbed.

"Ray!" Gina the receptionist cried, grabbing his arm. "You… Just… Witnessed… The rare and ever so illusive, Ecklie Joke. It's so rare, that women have been known to faint and has made men go insane. Are you okay? Do you need to lie down? What are your symptoms?"

With the others, Langston started laughing at the joke.

"I'm still in the room, you know," Ecklie told her.

"There it was again! Are you doing okay, Ray?" she asked, grinning. "Do I need to get you medical help? Do you need another beer to help ease the brain pain?"

"You do know I can fire you, right?" Ecklie asked her.

"O.M.G! It happened again. Seriously, Ray, are you okay?"

Ray pushed her hand off. "My sides are killing me. Stop! Stop, please!"

After a few minutes of laughter, Ecklie pulled himself together enough to add another rule:

**

* * *

567. When someone of the public asks what my job entails, I will not say, "Have someone kill you, and then I'll show you."**

* * *

"But it was fun!" Greg whined with a dramatic stomp.

Nick looked at his leg, then his face. "Drama queen."

Greg made a face and another stomp.

"Greg, you really are running on fumes, aren't you?" Catherine asked. "This is what… You're fourth wind?"

"Seventh."

"Oh Jesus!"

"I've heard of a second wind, but a seventh?" Langston asked.

"Yeah. See, some people just drop when they get tired or get supper grouchy, like me," Nick explained. "Greggo, here, he goes through cycles of dead tired to bouncing off the walls with each new wind of energy. The more winds he gets the more annoying and like a drunk he acts. We try to avoid keeping him around after the third or fourth wind."

Greg let out an evil laugh.

"Stop. Now." Sara ordered him. "I will stuff you in a locker if you do not stop now."

Greg sidled up to her. "Make. Me. Butter buttons."

The room erupted in laughter.

"I do remember one that we men need to nip in the bud," Nick said. He added:

**

* * *

568. Female co-workers are not to taunt men who are testing 'feminine products, toys, or items' just because they don't know how the item works, is used, installed, or worn.**

* * *

"You mean like Hodges has no clue how to use tampons?" Wendy asked.

"I do to!" he protested, and then quieter added, "Now."

It made the room laugh.

Ecklie added:

**

* * *

569. It is wrong to make employees write 'I will not set the lab on fire' one hundred times after they have done so.**

* * *

"It works in classrooms and you just insinuated that I am in fact in charge of children," Catherine told him. "Surely you can't be serious, Conrad."

Greg started giggling.

"I am serious."

"And don't call him Shirley," Greg howled. "OH! I have one for Nick!"

"Oh God," Nick groaned.

Greg wrote:

**

* * *

570. You are not Tevya, and he never actually fiddled on the roof.**

* * *

"All I said was I felt like a fiddler on the roof, not that I felt like Tevya."

"Uhm… You actually said you felt like Tevya fiddling on the roof," Sara said. "You told him that over your police radio where we all could hear it."

"No, no, no. It was on my phone."

"Nick, we all heard you. You said you felt like Tevya fiddling on the roof," Catherine said.

"Okay. Fine. Maybe I did. But he didn't know anything about the movie or play or book. He'd never read it."

"He asked me about it," Langston said.

"New CSI should avoid finding creative ways to annoy the assistant supervisor."

"Why? You can't fire him," Catherine told him.

"Catherine! How am I ever supposed to control my subordinates if you take away all my good threats?"

She shrugged. "I guess you're going to have to resort torture tactics."

"Uh. No." Ecklie said. "You, Stokes, will find new and creative ways to keep your subordinates in line. I recommend chocolate."

Nick stared at him but Ecklie didn't crack a smile to reveal his joke until Nick was laughing.

"Damn! You're on a role today," Mandy told him.

He just smiled.

"And since Sara was so kind to back up the room clown," Nick said, and added.

**

* * *

571. I should not retort to an unruly reporter or suspect, "I'm not the girl your mother warned you about. Her imagination was never this good."**

* * *

They laughed.

"But that reporter had it coming. I mean, he was being rude, he kept grabbing me and Catherine's butt, he kept sneaking past the line, he stole evidence, and he deserved it!" She looked around the room, and then added, "And he was the killer."

"And that makes saying it right. Of course. How could I have missed that?" Ecklie quipped.

She grinned. "Yes. See, you are a wise Under-Sheriff?"

"What do you want?"

She just smiled. It was better to let him wonder.

"I have one. I've already been warned never to do it again." Nick wrote:

**

* * *

572. When dealing with a person with multiple personalities, we do not ask an alter to come back because it was 'more cooperative and in a better mood.'**

* * *

"And even though I can't let you ever do it again, Nick, I have to admit I've watched that interview just for amusement several times," Catherine told him.

"Wait! What did we miss?" Robbins asked.

"Nick got this man with four personalities," Catherine told him. "He was having issues getting him to cooperate with two of the personalities, but this one was very talkative and pleasant. When another personality took over, he demanded to have that other personality back for those reasons."

"Samuel. Samuel writes me a letter once a week. Tells me all about the naughtiness the other personalities keep gettin' into."

"Naughtiness?" Wendy asked. "Who says naughtiness?"

"Apparently Nick," Hodges answered. "I guess he's just one of those really old assistant supervisors."

Another round of 'ooooo' ran around the room, with laughter on its heels.

"It's all right. It's all right. I wasn't going to do this to you, Hodges, but you left me no other choice!" Nick told him.

"What? What are you going to do?"

Nick wrote:

**

* * *

573. You do not spell Cheeseburger as Cheezburger, and then blame it on the hours you were forced to surf the Internet for information, IBIS for bullets, or CODIS for fingerprint matches.**

* * *

"It's all his fault," he pointed at Archie.

"What I do?"

"You had to take a vacation and left me to do my job and your job."

"I had nothing to do with crazy spellings."

"I went into system overload, and there wasn't a Bing to make it better."

Archie slugged his arm.

"Ow! What is that for?"

"Now you have something to whine about."

"I don't like you."

"Oh yeah?"

"Nope. Don't."

"Damn. So much for giving you that copy of Star Trek like you wanted."

"I like you again."

They laughed again.

Langston walked up to the wall and added two:

**

* * *

574. Always keep a Popsicle stick in the top of your kit for when your nose itches after you've gloved.**

**575. Doctor Raymond Langston is not to be referred to as Dr. Feel Good – either.**

* * *

"Hey, yeah. Ray taught me that little trick. It was a great trick," Greg said.

"And he apparently didn't like adopting my nick name," Robbins commented.

"Not when I read the lyrics of the song it refers too. I felt perhaps it would make people questions my real job."

"Wait. Real job?" Ecklie asked.

"Yes."

"What real job?"

"Oh? You didn't know?"

"Know what?"

"I tame lions on my days off."

Snickers started until Ecklie cracked a smile. "Right. Okay. Why does the joke always seem to be on me?"

"You're a supervisor. I think it comes with the territory," Catherine told him.

"Hm." He took Nick's chalk. "I was considering finding creative ways to dock wages for these, but now that we're here, I'll just write the rule and see how inventive my subordinates _really_ are." He wrote:

**

* * *

576. Nicknames for Under-Sheriff Ecklie that are to never be seen in a report ever again: the lab's Turtle Shell Wax endorser, Uncle Bad, Go-Getter-Yo-Yo-Ecklie-Man, Ecklie The Shiny Head, Chrome Dome, The Plan Man, The Steal-Your-Danish Man, or Lex Luther.**

* * *

"The steal-your-Danish Man?" Catherine asked.

"Yes. Came from day shift. Don't get it, but there it is."

"Whoa. So if you steal Danish, did you steal my salad too?" Greg asked. "Cuz it wasn't in there and I'm starving. If you like put your ear right here—" He lifted his shirt up and jabbed his finger into his belly button. "You could hear it asking my spine if my throat's been slit."

"Okay! Time to get Greg home before he gets an eighth wind!" Catherine announced.

She grabbed her purse, Greg's arm, and headed for the door. Nick hung back as the group left. Langston noticed and waited until the other's had left. He walked back to Nick and held out his hand.

"What?" Nick asked.

"Thank you for including me in this."

Nick grinned, drank some of his beer. "You were voted in, man."

Langston dropped his hand. "I was voted in?"

"For most everyone in this group, we were voted in by the predecessors. We'd been talking about it for a while, but there was the shake up with Riley leaving, some crazy cases, and it got pushed back two months. After the hell of a night you were having, I reminded them we'd voted you in a while ago. So no thanks needed, Ray. I'm glad to have you involved with this."

"So am I."

Nick laughed, looking at the wall.

"What is it?"

"I dunno how superstitious you are, but we all believe, at different levels, this room holds white magic. When you need help, a pick me up, going through a rough patch, this room helps you."

"I think it's the group dynamics I saw here that does that."

Nick looked at him, shrugging one shoulder. "Maybe. But isn't that still some kind of magic?"

Langston smiled. "It could be. Well, I'm beat. I need to get home."

"Hey, there's a stair well on the way out. On the ground level, the door alarm's broken and the camera points at the wall. If you're taking your beer, use that exit. It'll bring you out at the back of the parking lot."

"Okay. Thank you."

"One other thing, Ray. We take this secret serious. We'd hate to see what would happen to this place if the wrong people found out about it, especially considering our work. You gotta keep it secret."

"It goes to my grave with me, Nick. I wouldn't want to destroy something this creative."

Nick raised his beer to him. "Good man. Good man."

Langston left. He knew he'd think a lot on what Nick said about the power of the room. Regardless of what he decided, he was glad they had included him today. Leaving this morning he felt more connected to the team than he had since he'd started.


	36. The Birthday That Almost Was

36) The Birthday That Almost Was

There are things in life that make you remember you have muscles that get little use. Things such as:

Bull and bronc riding.

Triathlon competition.

Climbing Mount Everest.

Crazy people volunteers for speed of sound experiments.

Being tossed about a rolling car that was doing fifty-five miles an hour.

"It wasn't a bad birthday," Henry commented.

He, Hodges, Nick, and Greg stared at The Wall. While the other three weren't seriously injured, they all had muscles remind them how neglected they were. After dealing with the case they'd literally stumbled into, they hadn't made it much further than The Wall. They'd agreed it was a 'pineapple day' on the squad-car ride back. The officer looked at them like they all needed their heads checked, but they just ignored him. So with the case closed, and after getting Henry back on his crutches, the three bruised men slowly made their way to the basement and took up every piece of padded furniture in the room. Out of kindness or guilt, something to be argued about later, the three gave up the couch to Henry.

"I've had better," Hodges said.

"It wasn't your birthday," Greg reminded him.

"Could'a passed on the Hep B part though," Henry added.

"You never ate anything there," Greg pointed out.

"Man, did I roll that car or what?" Nick asked.

"Oh, God, send someone to shoot me now!" Greg cried to the ceiling. "You do not get a merit badge for best rolling _**my**_ car!"

"Kinda feel sorry for the raccoon though. He was just being a raccoon," Henry commented.

Greg screamed into a pillow. It gave the other three a good chuckle. Until their muscles reminded them they had just been in a car accident, walked a mile, found two dead guys and a raccoon, and sleep was still a drive away for all of them.

"Shirley was kind of h—"

Greg cut Henry off before he had to scream into the pillow again. "I thought I was the only one with mad ninja skills, Nick." He pointed at The Wall.

**

* * *

577. You have not solved any crime with your mad ninja skills. (_Submitted by DustBunnyQueen_)**

* * *

"Nope. I got some too. And let me tell ya, Catherine's gotta great sense of humor until you tell her you solved a crime with them. Then it kinda goes the way of the condor."

"I hear ya," Henry agreed.

"You should. You and your incessant mistletoe," Hodges snarled at him.

**

* * *

578. I will not hang mistletoe between two labs in hopes of convincing two co-workers to hook up.**

* * *

"I think it's kinda cute," Greg said.

"You would."

"I do. After all, between that and your toaster incident…"

**

* * *

579. The "Toaster Incident" is never to be mentioned in the hallowed lab halls ever again. (_Submitted by Augusta_)**

* * *

"It was an accident."

"You blew out all the circuits with that experiment," Nick told him. "Which, if I weren't your supervisor and all, would have found quite amusing."

"You did find it amusing," Henry said. "You couldn't quit laughing."

Nick started laughing at the memory. "Yeah. It was great, wasn't it?"

"You wrote me up for it. How is that great?" Hodges asked.

"And then I tore it up. What's your deal, man?"

"You rolled me in a car, forced me to walk a mile and ten more, and I had to deal with crazy people."

"They weren't crazy people, Hodges. They were just backwoods. _Those_ are crazy people."

**

* * *

580. A suspect may be crazy if the following appears in their written statement in part, or as the entire statement: lots of random and strangely placed commas, notions I or others are reading their thoughts, multiple mentions about how you or they are playing a game, promises to tell you where nefarious 'creatures' are hiding, how they thought about the same thing four or five times by writing about it six or seven times, or detailed accounts about the recent activities of their ray-gun building neighbors.**

* * *

"Okay. That does win."

"That's Ray's handwriting." Henry pointed at the next one. "He gloats?"

"Oh man does that man gloat," Nick answered, slowly nodding. "It doesn't happen often. Kinda like seeing a blue moon or sun-dog. But when he gloats, he gloats gooooood."

**

* * *

581. I will not gloat about a co-worker's unsuccessful deed.**

* * *

"What was he gloating about?"

"I blew up the DNA," Nick answered nonchalantly.

"How does one _blow up_ DNA?"

"You take a beaker, you put your sample in it. Then you turn around and spill something into it by tapping your elbow against it. Something in an unlabelled bottle. Then—"

"So that's why we got nasty-grams in our boxes about labeling bottles?" Henry asked.

"Yes. Then you get called away, not realizing the liquid is in there. You come back with your subordinate who's old enough to be your dad…"

The others started laughing.

Nick didn't crack a smile, just continued on. "You think you put the right stuff in. So you get it all ready, all nice and pretty, put it into the machine, and the minute the first cycle nukes it with a laser, there's a pop. Not a real noisy pop, mind ya. Just one of those, really unsatisfying pops."

They started laughing harder.

Nick was still straight faced as he continued. "And then smoke. Not a lot of smoke. Not a call the fire brigade lot. Not a set off the fire alarm lot. But enough that you know something ain't right in Kansas anymore."

Their muscles were trying to remind them they really shouldn't be laughing this hard.

"So you pull it out. You're sure you've just destroyed a multi-thousand dollar piece of equipment and you're going to be living on potato chips and Cup-of-noodles for the next ten years. Inside your little tube there is the DNA specimen. It doesn't look harmed. Not even black. You look at your old-enough-to-be-your-dad subordinate. He is not impressed. He's wearing the patented 'Son, I am not impressed' look. I'm sure you know the one."

"Stop. For the love of God, stop!" Hodges begged through his laughter.

"Then your old-enough-to-be-your-dad subordinate says something like, 'Perhaps we should check it under a microscope before we do anything else.' So you pull out the sample, stick it under a scope, and throw it up on the screen. You get to see your specimen, nice, pristine, ready to tell you who it belongs to, for five whole seconds before there's another pop, then smoke from under the scope, as you have just managed to blow up your DNA. Then your old-enough-to-be-your-dad subordinate looks at you, and says," Nick changed his voice to mimic Langston's. "I've worked here for eight months and have managed not to destroy evidence so efficiently. Should I have taken notes for this unorthodox forensic method? Perhaps you can explain how this will help us solve the case… Nick." Nick returned to his own voice.

"And you might have gotten mad, even considered punching him, except he's got that 'Son, you in a lot of trouble' look down pat. The one your own dad uses on you. Like the one time you came home late, late at night, when you were grounded, and his new Ranger is beat all to hell. Why? Because you and Sammy Parker – who wasn't supposed to be there in the first place – decided tonight was the night to try cow tipping. And little did you know, that it's a really, really, really shoddy idea to go tipping the Brahma bull. They get cranky. Real cranky. Cattle crossings mean nothing to them. They just jump 'em and keep on running. And your dad's nice new Ranger that he was so proud of, well, it kept you alive. You'd probably best leave it at that. Yeah. That's the look your old-enough-to-be-your-dad subordinate is wearing."

The three were laughing so hard they were crying. Nick just smiled, pleased with his story.

"Wow. When you do a number, you really do a number, don't you, Nick?" Henry asked.

"At least _I_ don't tell people Costa Rica, being a so-called sovereign state of the United States, is where we send people to be eaten if they don't cooperate. Huh, Greg?"

**

* * *

582. Costa Rica does not have cannibals and I should not threaten someone that's where we'll send them if they do not cooperate.**

* * *

"Costa Rica is in no way associated with the United States, Greg," Hodges told him that.

"I know that, you know that, but the suspect didn't know that."

"Same suspect who may or may not be suing us for intimidation?" Nick asked.

"That's her. She makes rocks look real smart."

"Like our shadow rookie this week?"

**

* * *

583. Move far away from the rookie that responds with, "What duck?" when someone yells "Duck!"**

* * *

"I'm surprised he even made it to graduation, or can even tie his shoe laces."

Nick chuckled. "Thursday he'd done something stupid and Catherine looks at me, says, 'If we fired all the stupid ones, we'd have no one to walk grids and collect evidence. Just remind yourself of that when they get on your nerves, Nick.' And walked off."

The four laughed.

"She, nor Ecklie, seemed all too impressed with my Halloween gag this year," Hodges commented.

**

* * *

584. I will not greet my supervisor hunched over saying "Yeth mathter" in the style of Igor especially when the media, public, or member of city government is on the premises. (_Submitted by __VessaMorana_)**

* * *

"Could it have something to do with doing it in front of the mayor and two journalists?" Henry asked.

Hodges pretended to think about it. "Naw! There must've been something else. Besides, I'm not the one doing mime impressions in front of the station. You and Wendy got me beat there."

**

* * *

585. I should not imitate a mime when the press annoys me with stupid questions.**

* * *

"Wendy did that too? Where was I?" Nick asked.

"Apparently not running to the front of the station to rescue the woman you love," Henry answered.

"Shut up, Andrews."

The three laughed.

**

* * *

586. Knowing that it will prohibit them from getting to their apartment afterwards, no one who lives above the crime scene ever sees or hears anything.**

* * *

"That is so, so true. Ray wrote that up there, didn't he?" Greg asked.

"Looks like his handwriting."

"That's Brass' handwriting. What the hell?" Nick sat up a little, re-reading it to make sure he'd read it right the first time.

**

* * *

587. Cows make terrible cover during a shootout.**

* * *

"I'd imagine they do, though," Henry commented. "I mean, after all, if they don't run off as soon as the shooting starts, imagine the mess you'd be when they got shot. And have you ever tried to give a cow CPR?"

The three looked at him. He grinned.

"That's just disgusting. You know that right?" Greg asked.

"Haven't you ever given cow to mouth resuscitation?"

"No."

"Mouse to mouth resuscitation?"

"This conversation will stop now or you will wear my breakfast."

"What a bile threat!"

"Har, har, har!" the three said.

"And Bobby strikes again!" Nick said, laughing at the next one.

**

* * *

588. Inflatable sheep are not to be seen cleaning labs or bathrooms.**

* * *

"He named his sheep. Did you know that?" Hodges asked.

"Yeah? What's he calling it this time?"

"Emerson."

"Emerson?"

"Emerson Cod. He was a big fan of _Pushing Daisies_."

"Me too," Greg and Henry said with a nod.

"Pushing Daisies? What's that?" Nick asked.

"Only the best gum-shoe series ever!" Henry said with a grin.

"Five second recap," Greg said. "This guy could touch dead things and bring them back to life for a minute. He used it to find out how people died and solve crimes. And when he wasn't solving crimes, he was making pies."

Nick looked at the next rule:

**

* * *

589. We do not tell people that we solved a seemingly unsolvable crime due to an informant nicknamed The Pie Maker.**

* * *

"And since that's David's handwriting, I'm guessing you three have either hounded him about this, or else he's a fan and felt some need to mention this."

"Or all of the above."

"Or all of the above. Sure. That works too."

"We should talk about our interesting night," Hodges said.

"Why? We were there. You saw how it started, went, and ended. What's to talk about?" Henry asked.

"Oh… This." Hodges pushed himself up, moved slowly to the basket of chalk, even slower moved the footstool down to the end, stepped up, and slowly wrote:

**

* * *

590. The more technological advance a communication device is, the more likely it is to make communication difficult.**

* * *

It was met with a round of applause. He stepped down and started back to the recliner he'd been in.

"Oh. And one more."

**

* * *

591. Mother Nature has no pity on stupid people.**

* * *

"Not to mention fate. If he killed Harry, than that raccoon was Harry's vengeance!" Henry said.

"Since you're up, add this rule," Greg ordered.

**

* * *

592. Flying should be left to airplanes and hang gliders.**

* * *

Hodges stared at him a minute, then went back and added it.

"And could you add this one for me?" Nick asked, and promptly rattled off:

**

* * *

593. When you think you've seen the stupidest criminal in the world, another will come along to surprise you.**

* * *

Hodges looked back at him, glaring. But he obeyed and added it. He turned and stepped off the step stool.

"Oh, and one more," Nick said.

**

* * *

594. Ask before you touch a cowboy's gun, even if it is evidence.**

* * *

"Really?" Hodges asked with sarcasm.

"Yeah. Why not?"

Hodges heaved a sigh, went back, and added the rule. He stepped off and was almost back to his chair when Henry asked, "Could you add mine? Catherine said I couldn't do it anymore."

**

* * *

595. I am not allowed to schedule my days off to avoid working full phases of the moon.**

* * *

Hodges stared at him. "I hate all of my co-workers," he said, and then returned to add the rule.

He turned on the stool, looking at them. "Any more? Can I get down now?"

"Sure," they answered one at a time.

Hodges got down, tossed the chalk in the basket, and was almost to his chair when Greg said, "I have another one."

"Write it your damned self," Hodges told him as he sat down.

The three laughed. Hodges cracked a smile, followed by a long sigh. "I think I'm going to sleep right here."

"Mm-hm," Nick said.

The room grew silent as the four 'law-men' fell asleep to dream of a birthday that almost was.


	37. Yule Tide Pony

**37) Yule Tide Pony**

Hodges snuck around the back of the building, through the door with the broken alarm, down the stairs, and into records. Then he stopped sneaking and hummed as he walked down the long room to the last role, turned right, and headed back to The Wall. He hesitated when he noticed the door wasn't shut all the way and he could see the blue light of the television. Hodges slipped between the wall and filing cabinet, and entered.

He found Greg asleep on the couch, covered only by the thin blanket that draped over the back of the couch. He had his cell phone clutched in one hand near his ear. Hodges walked up and poked him. Greg stirred. He poked him again and got a little more of a response. He lightly smacked his face, waking Greg up. Greg glared up at him.

"What the hell?" Greg demanded.

"Yes. My question exactly. Why are you here?"

"I can be here."

"It's Christmas. Why are you still in the state of Nevada? Shouldn't you be home in California? Isn't that where you were headed?"

"Mind your own damn business," Greg snarled and closed his eyes with plans to go back to sleep.

"You made a big scene about wanting time off to go home and have Christmas with your cousin and parents because this was your cousins first Christmas without any of his family. Remember? And now you're here."

"Hodges, did you come down here to give me grief or was there some other reason you came?"'

"I was going to add some rules."

"Oh good. Then there is something else for you to do. Go add rules. Run away."

"I want to know why you're here still."

"Why? What are you going to do about it? Report me to Santa? It's my vacation. I can do whatever I want on it."

"You told Catherine—"

"Good God! You're like that whiny little brother I'm glad I never had!" Greg rolled over with his face against the cushion. He pulled the pillow over his head.

Hodges did not like how that conversation ended in the least. He shook Greg's arm and he ignored him. He poked him several times and still, ignored.

"I didn't want to resort to this, but you're making me," Hodges warned.

Greg didn't move.

Hodges grabbed a piece of skin between his thumb and forefinger and squeezed while he twisted.

"OW!" Greg bellowed, coming off the couch onto his feet.

Hodges stepped back, watching him. Greg glared at him as he rubbed the spot he'd just been pinched.

"What the hell is wrong with you?"

"You haven't answered my question."

"It's none of your damned business." Greg turned, grabbed the pillow, and smacked Hodges in the face with it. "And that's for pinching me douche bag!"

Hodges grabbed the pillow and they tugged on it until Hodges finally pulled it away. He smacked Greg in the face with it. Greg looked like he was about to pounce on him.

"Fine! You want to know why? Fine! Because my horse is really, really sick with a broken leg. I didn't want to leave because…" Greg looked down, getting teary eyed. "Because Belle's sick."

Hodges let the pillow drop to the floor.

"You hate horses."

"Belle's different."

"How? She's a horse?"

Greg glared at him again. "Of course that's something you can't understand. I don't know what the hell I was thinking." Greg fell back down on the couch, staring at the floor.

Hodges picked up the pillow, sat it next to him, and then sat down in the recliner. He thought for a moment.

"Is she that horse you rode from the crime scene?"

Greg nodded.

"I didn't know you bought her."

"Almost wasn't able to, but Nick and a friend of his with the mounted deputies helped out. She's a really good horse." Greg made a face to force back his tears.

"How'd she get sick and break her leg?"

Greg heaved a sigh. "She was out in a pasture with some other horses and something spooked them. They went through the fence and we couldn't find her for three days. When we did she was dehydrated, had pneumonia, and a broken leg. She'd been down for a day, at least. Horses shouldn't lay down that long, I guess. At least that's what Nick said."

Hodges thought about it. Then he nodded. "So you're kid's sick and you didn't want to leave her alone. I get that."

Greg looked at him, surprised by the statement. "Yeah… That's one way to look at it."

"All you had to do was tell me that. You didn't have to be such a cranky baby about it, you know."

Greg smiled a little. "It's my first horse. I'm allowed to be a little crazy."

"Says you." Hodges stood up and stretched. "Okay. Now it's time for some rules."

Greg looked up at the wall. "Wow. It's been almost a year since I've been down here. Where did that time disappear to?"

Hodges nodded. "Don't know, but I'm here to chew bubble gum and write rules, and I'm all out of bubble gum."

Greg rolled his eyes, but smiled anywa. "I remember that one."

Hodges looked at rule 595.

**

* * *

596. When processing any scene of height, there is no need to climb to the top and yell, "I am king of the world." You aren't, and if you were, we wouldn't care. (**_**Inspired by BobbyandLindsay4Ever**_**)**

* * *

"Who did that?"

"Sara. On Nick's dare."

Hodges smiled. "Sara? Our Sara?"

"There are moments in the field where she takes over as Nick's alter-ego and pulls something we never saw coming."

"And where was this?"

"A warehouse. At three in the morning. Got all the alarms with fur coats barking. I guess Ecklie got a complaint that next day and suggested that whoever did it, not do it again."

"Hence the rule. That would be Catherine's handwriting."

**

* * *

597. More things C.S.I. does not stand for: Can't Stand Idiots, Cinderella's Slipper Investigators, Cynical and Stoic Idiots, Complete Studdly Interlopers, Critical Scrubber Item; Confused and Stolid Infidels, Chemical Sampling Idiots, Compassionate and Squishy Infantry, Coalition of Squinty Investigators, Crazy Scrumptious Injera, Channel of Serious Injunctions, Common Sense Initiative, Complacent Sociable Internists, Crystal Snow Injectables, College of Simpleton Imbeciles, Coalition of Suggestive Idjits. **

* * *

"That's okay. We have millions of words to still choose from. She can't list them all."

Hodges stared at him. "Going for the gold, are we?"

"Naw. Just the longest list I can until I quit or die – whichever happens first."

"Or get fired. Just how patient do you think Catherine is?"

"She puts up with you."

Hodges blinked at him. "Was that an insult?"

"Did it feel like an insult?"

Hodges hesitated. "Yes."

"Huh. Don't know what to tell you."

"Was it an insult?"

"I'm not sure. Might have been."

"That one is because of you." Hodges pointed at 598.

**

* * *

598. Not allowed to claim there's a pot of gold in the basement of a crime scene and that's why I used excessive amounts of cordon tape on a door.**

* * *

Greg sat back. "But… Gold in the basement. Gold colored tape. They go together."

"There was no gold."

"There could have been gold. He was short and wearing green."

"He was a little person in a jogging suit."

"That was green. And his name was Sherman."

"What?" What does that have to do with anything?"

"Shermon, shamrock, they sound close."

"Oh. My. God. You've lost it."

"That implies I had it at one time."

Hodges smirked. "Well, I give you that."

Greg got up, grabbed a piece of chalk and added:

**

* * *

599. ****I am not to yell 'FAIL' when equipment gives me results I don't like.**

* * *

"I did it once."

"You do it all the time."

"I don't yell."

"I can hear you clear over in my office."

"I speak loudly. I don't yell."

"Your 'speak loudly' is to everyone else a yell."

Hodges jumped up, grabbed a piece of chalk from the basket on the table and wrote.

**

* * *

600. We do not count 'Mississippi' or sing '99 fingerprints in the room' when we're lifting fingerprints in a public area.**

* * *

"Ha!"

"I did it on purpose."

"All the more reason."

"You told me to get back at Nick for rolling all your rubber gloves into a ball."

Hodges wagged his finger at Greg. "I… Didn't…" He sighed. "I did."

Greg smiled.

"But this was all you." Hodges wrote:

**

* * *

601. I am not allowed to accuse, detain, or arrest a cat for burglarizing anything.**

* * *

"How do you know the cat didn't steal anything?"

"It was attacking the parrot and its male owner."

"It wasn't attacking the male owner. It was after the parrot."

"How does any of that have to do with the cat burglarizing anything?"

"It was a very sneaky kitty."

"Kitty? Did you really just use kitty?"

"So?"

"You're a grown man!"

"So?"

"You are impossible."

Greg turned away with a grin and added:

**

* * *

602. If a suspect or victim is holding a gun at me, it is bad to point over their shoulder and screech, "OH MY GOD! WHAT IS THAT!" and then punch them when they're not looking.**

* * *

Together they said, "Nick."

"One day, he's going to outsmart himself and get shot," Hodges said.

"Naw. He's too smart for that."

Hodges looked at him. "What exactly do you think I'm talking about?"

"Goats?"

"I'm talking about Nick."

"Why would Nick have a goat?" Greg asked.

"I didn't say Nick had a goat. I said someday he'd outsmart himself."

"What does that have to do with goats?"

"Why are you being so damned irritating today?"

"Because you're letting me?"

Hodges narrowed his eyes for a second, almost said something, and then turned away. He added:

**

* * *

603. Never dismiss the crazy theory – it might be right. (**_**Inspired by Augusta**_**)**

**604. You do not work for ISIS, your female supervisor is not to be called Malory, and you are not Archer, the super spy, code name Duchess. (And if you were, we'd have to kill you.)**

* * *

"Hodges… You really didn't do that, did you?" Greg asked.

"No. I didn't. Archie did."

Greg's eyes brows lifted. "Are you kidding me?"

"Noooo. And he almost got fired."

Greg sat on the arm of the recliner. "I haven't heard this one. Tell me, tell me."

"Have you even seen the show?"

"You mean, like watch TV? I haven't watched anything in months."

"Well, it's funny. Archie was pretending to be Archer, I don't remember why. Catherine came in and he called her Malory, and that when he was in the field, he was to be referred to as Duchess. She apparently saw the show and told him if he ever refers to her as an old, cranky mother who would sell her son for a trip the Cayman Islands on tax-payer dollars."

"Oo! Yeah. How'd he take it?"

"We were both so surprised she knew about it that we just stared."

Greg laughed. He added under his:

**

* * *

605. Move far away from the rookie that responds with, "What duck?"**

* * *

"Peterson?" Hodges asked.

"No. This was Stuart Max."

"Really? I pegged as maybe passing field tests."

"He would have, if he'd just ducked instead of asking about it."

Hodges laughed. He wrote:

**

* * *

606. Even if it is Easter Sunday, I am not allowed to compare a bomb scene to an Easter egg hunt. **

* * *

"Yeah… I don't think Langston was very impressed with you for that, Hodges."

"But it was like an Easter egg hunt."

"We really need to work on your workplace professionalism."

"What's wrong with my professionalism?"

"It's a little off kilter."

"You're off kilter!"

Greg laughed. The conversation dropped off without warning when Greg's phone beeped. He messed with it, opening the text message that arrived. Greg sat back, staring at the floor.

"Bad news?"

"No. The vet is going to check on her at seven. I won't know anything until then."

Hodges looked at a clock on the microwave. "Have you had Christmas dinner?"

"Yeah. A couple frozen burritos from the fridge." Greg glanced at the mini-fridge that the microwave sat on.

"That's not a Christmas dinner. My mother makes a really good dinner, and always too much." Hodges glanced at his watch. "The turkey should be done in the next thirty minutes."

Greg looked up at him. "Are you… Inviting me to Christmas dinner, Hodges?"

"Yes."

Greg smiled. "Okay."

Hodges stood up and headed for the door. Greg stood up and followed him. They strolled through records, up the back steps, and into the bright afternoon sun.

"Thanks," Greg said.

Hodges didn't say anything, but he smiled when Greg glanced at him. Greg didn't press it. To have Hodges take a compliment so humbly was a great gift in itself. He really did care that Greg was worried about his horse.


	38. How Hitting for the Cycle Should Have

38) How Hitting for the Cycle Should Have Ended

_Inspired by: howitshouldhaveended dot com_

* * *

Robbins and David seemed oblivious to most of the Wall Crew glaring at them while they divvied their winnings. The Wall was not a cold room, but if the glares on the two were capable of lowering the ambient temperature, it would have been freezing.

"You should buy us breakfast," Henry told them.

The men stopped, staring at him.

"And why is that, Henry?"

"You should at least buy me breakfast. I had to play bookie all night. They made me." Henry pointed at Nick and Hodges. "And I didn't bet against or for anyone."

"That hardly qualifies as a logical excuse," Robbins told him.

"You bet on Dave, man," Nick said. "How is that even fair?"

"No one said you had to bet on yourself, Nick," Robbins said.

David was almost done counting out the money.

"And then you share the pot with him, right in front of us," Greg grumbled.

"I did not tell any of you to come here. You showed up under your own volition."

"I'm not sure if we can really count Rick in this cycle, though," Ecklie said.

Robbins gave him a narrow look over his glasses.

Ecklie pointed out, "You found him dead, in the morgue, thirty minutes before end of shift."

"It still counts," Robbins told him.

"No. I don't think so. I—"

"Conrad, are you being a sore looser?"

Ecklie hesitated. His mouth wasn't wide open, but there was a soft pop when he clamped his teeth together.

"Aren't you going to do something about this?" Mandy asked, turning to Catherine.

She was the only one not glaring. She lay on the settee, reading a RedBook magazine.

Catherine looked up at her. "Hm?"

"Aren't you going to do anything with Robbins and David? Shouldn't they share?"

"Why?" She asked.

"Because it's fair?" Hodges asked.

Catherine laughed, looking back at her magazine.

"You don't think it's fair?" Ecklie asked her.

"You all have lived in Las Vegas long enough to know how far 'it's not fair' works when it comes to gambling. Besides, we all broke a rule just betting on the cycle. We should be ashamed of ourselves." Catherine shrugged a little, smiling. "Or at least swearing off sins for the next week, anyway."

Nick looked up at the wall. "But it wasn't a crime."

"It was based on a crime," Greg pointed out.

"You're based on a crime."

"How does that even make sense?"

"Because you're the milkman's kid and your mom never told you. Told me though."

"Har-har-har."

"You know," Robbins said, pausing to let them know what he was about to say was prophetic and wise. "It's a good think Rick died, in hindsight."

"You're glad someone died?" Gina asked.

"No. Not glad. I said it's a good thing. That boy was headed for someone at a crime scene getting very angry with him and killing him, or else ending up jobless in Las Vegas which is as good as dead."

"That's cold," Mandy commented

"But you know it's true," Hodges pointed out.

She shrugged. "Maybe. Well, since they're not going to be generous, I think we should write a rule about it."

"About losing at gambling on a crime?" Catherine asked.

"Your wit is failing old woman," Mandy told her.

Hoots erupted. Ecklie, Catherine, and Robbins laughed.

"Wow! Mandy!" Nick put his arm around her. "Should we talk about it?"

"No. But there is a rule that needs up here." She pushed him away, grabbed some chalk and the footstool, and wrote:

* * *

**607. A suspect may be crazy if the following appears in their written statement in part or in the entirety: random and strangely placed commas, notions that I or others are reading their minds, multiple mentions about how you or they are playing a game, promises to tell you where nefarious 'creatures' are hiding, how they thought about the same thing four or five times in the last ten minutes, detailed accounts about the recent activities of their ray-gun building neighbors, or Catholic priests performing wiccan magic.**

* * *

There was a moment of silence.

"Mandy… You don't deal with suspects… Do you?" Hodges asked.

She glared at him. "He ran into my lab. The police," she shot a glare at Brass, "Apparently didn't restrain him well enough. He was shouting about all of it even as they drug him away."

"He was on meth," Brass told her.

"He was loose in the lab."

"He was on meth."

"In the lab."

"He didn't _do_ the meth in the lab. He did it prior to being picked up."

"And he was loose in the lab!"

"He wasn't trying to hurt you. He was just talking really fast and a lot. Like Hodges here."

Hodges looked at him. "Thanks!"

"He was calling himself a mouse. He said he came to find the priest that turned a guy into a wolf and a woman into a hawk and he was the only one who could save them both. Apparently a horse told him."

Greg snickered.

"It wasn't funny!"

"So… He was trying to help a lady hawk?"

Hodges and Archie started fighting their own snickering.

"Why do I get the feeling we're on the outside of this joke?" Ecklie asked Nick.

Nick nodded.

"And did he call himself Mouse or did he say he was a mouse?" Greg asked.

"Called himself Mouse. Why? What do you know about him?"

"And let me guess, the man was wolf at night, the woman was a hawk during the day?"

Mandy frowned. "He was _your_ suspect?"

"No," Greg laughed. "Dude was on meth and thought he was in a movie. He was playing out a movie, Mandy. And trust me, if he thought he was Mouse, you were in no danger."

"I was stuck with him for four hours!"

"Maybe someone should write another rule before Mandy goes into 'savage every man alive' mode," Gina suggested.

"Shut! Up!"

"I'm next," Nick said, taking the chalk.

* * *

**608. Be wary of a person who tells you, "I'm making a citizen's arrest."**

* * *

Catherine chuckled. "Nick got arrested."

Nick looked down from the footstool. She was looking at her magazine.

"It wasn't funny."

"It was very funny."

"He put me in cuffs."

"He was making a citizen's arrest."

"Why was he arrested?" Ecklie asked.

"The guy said Nick was being very loud and obnoxious and had kept him up for three days straight."

"I'd only been working the crime scene for two days."

"He said three."

"You know it was two."

"I know I had a very hard time not laughing."

"You wouldn't be laughing if you'd been arrested."

She lowered her magazine. "This is why I'm the supervisor, you see. I get to laugh at you. You do not, ever, get to laugh at me. There will be repercussions for sub-ordinates who mock me."

"Oh really?" Ecklie asked.

She looked back at him. "Yes."

Ecklie took the chalk from Nick and added:

* * *

**609. It is wrong to make employees write one hundred times things they are not allowed to do anymore.**

* * *

A round of cheering erupted.

"Finally! Someone did it! Someone stopped her!" Hodges cried.

Catherine waved them off. "I'll find other, and more painful, things to make you all do now."

"I'm your supervisor. You will not."

She smiled, but didn't look away from her magazine. "You can dream, Conrad. You can dream."

He just shook his head before adding:

* * *

**610. When delivering a report to the mayor or superior, I will not proposition it with, "Which version of the truth would you like to hear?" (_Inspired by Augusta_)**

* * *

"Who did that?" Henry asked.

Ecklie smiled. The group looked at each other, questioned who had done this. Slowly rouge crept up Ecklie's neck.

"It was you?" Robbins asked.

Ecklie shrugged a little.

"And how did the superior – or was it the mayor? – take it?" Greg asked.

Ecklie thought for a moment. "I'm grateful I still have a job.

They laughed.

Robbins hobbled forward. "I have two."

* * *

**611. It is bad to gloat to the dead.**

**612. It is bad to play paper football over a corpse while waiting for the M.E. to return with the autopsy report.**

* * *

"Hey now," Nick said. "You gotta erase that last one, Doc. You take forever sometimes so we gotta keep these idle hands busy. You know what they say about idle hands, don't you?"

"In your case, Nick, idle hands mean you're either asleep or already in trouble."

Nick looked down at her. "Just how many cups of coffee did you have?"

She smiled up at him. "Do you know who I betted on?"

They all stared for a moment. Robbins smiled, hobbling back to his spot between David and Henry on the table.

"Me?" he asked.

"No."

"Greg?"

She wrinkled her nose and shook her head.

"David?"

Another head shake.

"Who?"

"No one."

"You betted against us?"

"I did."

"But that's… That's…"

"That earned her $100 back," Robbins told him.

The room erupted in an uproar of 'unfair' and 'fail' accusations. Catherine got up, grabbed a piece of chalk from the desk and added:

* * *

**613. We do not yell 'fail!', 'mega-fail!', or any other 'fail' at a crime scene.**

* * *

"This isn't a crime scene," Gina said.

"Nope. But the other night was, _Greg_," she said as she returned to the settee and magazine.

He just smiled.

Brass added the next rule:

* * *

**614. Bullets have no respect for inanimate objects, and even less for animate ones.**

**615. It is wrong to tell crazy people, "I can see your thoughts. Right there. Above your head."**

* * *

"Brass, sometimes you are a bad, bad influence," Ecklie said. "And you encourage those two." He pointed in Greg and Nick's general directions.

"But I'm old enough to lie my way out of it."

Ecklie laughed. "I only let you believe that's what's happening. I know full well you're full of shit."

The Crew laughed with them.

"Although I don't want to add this one, I supposed I should," Archie said. He wrote:

* * *

**616. Television shows do not offer a convincing basis for my technology 'want-o-meter.'**

* * *

"Archie, you're learning," Langston told him.

"Learning that my supervisors are related to Scrooge."

"What you wanted doesn't even exist, Archie," Catherine told him. "How does that make Conrad or I Scrooge-like?"

"You could have offered a compromise."

"And why would I do that? I have no intention of finding it in my cold heart to help you with your 'want-o-meter,' Archie."

"Ha! See? Didn't I tell all of you? She just admitted to it!"

"You need help," Greg told him.

Archie glared a moment, and then added:

* * *

**617. It is bad to ask my supervisor, "But would ceiling cat approve of this behavior?"**

* * *

"Thank you Archie!" Catherine told him.

"Ceiling cat?" Ecklie asked.

"Some Internet thing and frankly, I'm tired of Greg asking me that question on a daily, sometimes hourly, basis."

"It's a funny reference."

"It was funny twice. Then it turned annoying."

"I'll sick basement cat on you for saying that!"

"Oh for Pete's sake, Greg! Does Archie have to add another rule about this basement cat?"

Greg smiled. "Not yet."

Nick took Archie's chalk and wrote:

* * *

**618. We do not refer to a group of crazy people as 'The Dream Team.'**

* * *

"Oh come on!" Hodges, Archie, and Greg cried.

Greg added, "That's not fair."

"I don't know what this dream team is you three are referring too, but if it's like all your other references, I'm sure it's not something politically correct.

"You've never seen the movie _The Dream Team_, have you?" Archie asked.

"No."

"You should. You'd laugh. And then you'd let us call them that," Hodges told him.

"I seriously doubt it."

It was Langston's turn to add a rule. With careful strokes he wrote:

* * *

**619. The one officer who understands crime scenes and how to handle evidence will be the last one on the scene or has been recently transferred and cannot take command of the scene.**

* * *

They all could agree with that.

"We're starting to run out of room for the rules, guys," Catherine said as she let her gaze travel around the room.

That brought a silence over the group. She was right. Rules covered everything that could be written on, and quickly they were running out of space. Soon, the rules would come to an end.

"Maybe we could start a Big Book of Rules?" Greg started.

They thought about it, but everyone agreed with a unanimous, "Naw." and "It wouldn't be the same."

"Well, we can't erase any of them. That would be against all the rules," Mandy said.

"I guess we'll figure it out when the time comes," David said. "Now… Who wants breakfast? My treat."

They all turned to him.

"You're going to buy them breakfast?" Robbins asked.

"We're the Wall Crew. Of course I am."

Robbins smiled. "I'll pay half. Let's go have breakfast, Crew."

The noisy group filtered out of the room and out into the warming Las Vegas day.


	39. The Divorce

39) The Divorce

Catherine started a little when Morgan Brody leaned in, practically sitting on the stool with Catherine. The young woman looked around them, as if she were looking for someone to hide from.

"Hey Catherine," Morgan said.

"Hey."

Morgan looked down at the report in Catherine's hand, and then looked her in the eye.

"I was practically raised in this building."

Catherine hesitated. Statements like that usually didn't lead to good endings. She chose to remain silent until she knew where this was going.

"I mean, my dad was a CSI when I was still in middle school. Before the divorce."

Another bad topic. Catherine remained silent.

"Do you know that?"

Catherine did.

"So I know all sorts of things about this building. The court house was originally built on this spot, did you know that? They hung people here before they moved the court house downtown. And then they built this place, right on top of where they murdered people."

"I'm sure Greg would love to know that."

"Would he?"

"He's a Las Vegas history buff."

Morgan smiled. "I'll have to share all that with him. Should be fun. So back to this building."

"Yes?"

"As I was saying, I know all sorts of things about this building. Did you know that there's a corner in the attic that some homeless guy has been living for the last twenty-one years. I checked when I got back and it doesn't look like he's been there for a while. Probably died."

"Probably."

"And before the parking garage was built, there was a stone guard shack in the back. Do you remember that?"

"Yes."

"I made out in that shack I don't know how many times."

"I didn't need to know that."

Morgan smiled. "And in the basement, behind the morgue, there's this crawl space that you can catch a good nap and no one can find you."

"I see."

"And in the records room…" Morgan let the words trail off, grinning at Catherine.

Catherine's stoic expression hid the sinking feeling in her stomach. Morgan had found The Wall. The Crew was not going to like that.

"There's a door behind some filing cabinets down there. A couple friends and I moved the cabinets in front of the door so no one would find it. So you can imagine my surprise when I went down there for a break and discovered people had found it. And moved into it. And then yesterday, someone installed a shiny new lock on the door."

"What?" Catherine asked, and immediately regretted letting on that she knew about the room.

"Right?" Morgan said, not acting the least bit surprised. "So who would put a lock on that room?"

"I don't…" Catherine looked away. She could see Greg, Sara, Bobby, and Hodges. Could it have been one of them?

"Catherine," she heard Ecklie say behind her.

She turned. He stood behind her with his arms crossed and looked angry.

"Morgan, can you excuse us," Catherine said.

Morgan left without a word.

Ecklie leaned on a table and lowered his voice. "There is a lock on The Wall door. Why?"

"I don't know."

"You didn't know anything about it?"

"No."

"Find out for me, will you?"

"Me?"

"Yes. You. Find out." Ecklie left.

Catherine looked back across the lab. Who would have locked up The Wall?

#

Catherine walked into Ecklie's office and sat down in a chair. He was working on his computer and didn't even glance at her.

"Can I help you?"

"I called a Crew meeting and I know _why_ there's a lock on the door, but as for who put it on, no one will confess."

He waited for her to continue, but she didn't. Ecklie finally looked at her.

"So why is there a lock on the door?"

"The Wall Crew wants to divorce you."

Ecklie stared at her, not sure if he'd even heard her right. He turned so he could face her.

"I'm sorry?"

"Me too."

"No, I mean, I don't think I heard you correctly."

"You did, Conrad. The others think you need to be removed from the Crew. They've been feeling it for a while, I guess, but with what happened to Ray, all the changes you've implemented, hiring Russell without announcing it so other people could apply for my job, and you're 'I don't give a shit' attitude about it all, they don't trust you anymore and want a divorce."

"You can't just divorce someone from The Wall Crew. I… That doesn't even make sense!"

"It does if you know how mad they are with you."

"They all feel this way? Even Robbins, David, and Gina."

"They didn't object; I'd assume so."

"Are you mad at me?"

"You demoted me without any warning. What the hell do you think?"

"I—Well—You were out of line with how everything was handled on the Haskell case, Catherine."

She glared. "You know damn well I had nothing to do with any of that mess. I tried to keep my CSI in line, but Haskell knew exactly how to stir them up and make everyone react just the way he wanted them to."

"Try. That's the problem. You only tried, and that's why you were demoted. You should have been firing people instead of enabling them to run off to Los Angeles, buy guns, and kill escaped felons. And now you let _this_ happen?"

"I didn't _let_ this happen. I couldn't have stopped it even if I'd _wanted_ to. You created this mess. Own up to it!"

"I am the Under Sheriff. If you people think you can just cut me out of this, I will make you pay."

"Great speech, Conrad. That's sure to earn their trust back and your acceptance back into the Wall Crew."

Ecklie stood up, snarling, "That group wouldn't even exist if I hadn't backed them up and hid The Wall from everyone else, Catherine!"

"Threats will not resolve this, Conrad."

"The hell they won't! Either I'm back in or The Wall is over! I will not be pushed out like this!"

"You can't—"

"Oh yes I can. I am the Under Sheriff. If I want that damned room sealed up, I sure as hell can do it! And that is exactly what I'll do if they don't change their minds!"

Catherine stared at him with such a long, hard glare that he began to feel it after a few minutes. After five minutes he sank back into his chair. He tried to defend his position but that angry motherly stare killed any words that attempted to escape. Finally he sat quiet and still, waiting for her to speak.

"I wish Gil were here. He was always better at situations like this," Catherine began.

Ecklie opened his mouth and she held up a hand, and then slowly lowered it.

"First of all, you are behaving like a _child_. Just because the other children on the playground do not want to play with you doesn't mean you should throw a tantrum. I—"

"I am the Under Sheriff. I—"

"Stop. Talking."

And he did.

"Second of all, I have already given them the opposite side of that speech. They should have spoken to me or you before putting a lock on a door, but that's behind us. They need time to calm down before we even touch the idea of you coming back into the group."

"No. I—"

"You are interrupting me again."

His jaw wagged with silent words and then he closed it.

"I warned them that this would cause fallout on both sides and this was bad karma for The Wall. And I'm warning you of the same. However, if you feel you need to order the room sealed up, then that's what you'll do, I guess, but if you think that's the end of The Wall or the Wall Crew, you are sorely mistaken. The Wall is just a room, an extension of the Crew. If you are so immature that you have to seal it up rather than be shut out until everyone's wounds heal, fine. We will find another Wall. But I can promise you, Conrad, that when we do, you will never be invited back again. You will burn that bridge plus all the nails that held it together." Catherine stood. "So decide, Conrad, but decide wisely. Whatever choice you make will be the final words to this argument."

She walked out, leaving him to stewing in his anger. Ecklie gritted his teeth, glaring at his computer. He stood up, picked up his phone, and dialed a number.

"This is Under Sheriff Ecklie. I need…" He stopped. Ecklie sighed and rubbed his face. "Never mind." He hung up. He rapped his fingers on the desk. Ecklie snatched up the receiver and dialed a number. "Under Sheriff Ecklie again. I need to put a work order for building maintenance."

#

Catherine sighed as she walked off the elevator, offering a weary smile to Robbins who was waiting for her. The two began a slow stroll down the hall together

"Sorry I had to wake you," Robbins told her.

"That's okay. Is everyone here?"

He nodded.

"How are they taking it?"

He shook his head. She sighed.

"I guess I should have expected this," she said.

"I guess we should have."

The two entered records and headed down the aisle to the back. They found the Wall Crew standing in a tight group, staring at the freshly constructed cinder-block wall that covered the door and permanently sealed off The Wall.

The crew didn't speak.

They didn't joke.

They just stared.

Catherine turned when a hand rested on her shoulder. She was surprised to see Morgan but returned her smile anyway.

"I'm sorry he did this," she told Catherine, and the group. "He never took rejection well."

"I'd say," Hodges growled. "I take it better than this."

"I did get to see inside before it was sealed up. You guys spent a lot of time in there, didn't you?"

Several of the Crew nodded.

"If you want, I know another place you could start over."

No one spoke for a long time. Nick turned to her.

"Where?"

"Follow me."

She led them out of records and into the morgue. To even Robbins' surprise, she showed them a door at the back of the locker room that had been forgotten. It was inside a cage that was filled with boxes of supplies that had also been forgotten. The door opened wide enough for her and Sara, but the men had to move the supplies around to make it open wide enough for the rest of them. There was a hall behind the door with bulbs in protective cages overhead. The lights were on, but most of the bulbs were burned out. The hall was lined with forgotten boxes, some brooms, a ladder, and outdated office equipment. She led them about a hundred feet to a set of rickety wood stairs. The hall, however, continued on past the stairs, disappearing into the darkness beyond the dim light.

Morgan started up the stairs.

"Stay on the boards or you'll fall through the ceiling tiles. And be quiet. People below can hear you," Morgan whispered over her shoulder.

The message was whispered back down the line. The top of the stairs came to a small wood platform. A board walk ran in two directions away from it. The walk was suspended from eye hooks in the ceiling and made with two by fours, pieces of rope, and a variety of objects serving as stick. It had been put sloppily put together with nails and screws. It looked even more dangerous than the stairs. Morgan stepped on the one to her right and started walking. One by one, the crew followed her. The way was lit by small points of light coming up from below where the acoustic ceiling tiles didn't fit neatly into the aluminum railings.

"Where in the hell are we?" Brass whispered.

"The attic," Morgan whispered back.

"Have these boards always been up here?" Greg asked.

"No. When I was 10, my best friend Karen and I spent an entire summer building this walkway. We nearly fell through the ceiling a few times!"

"Where does it go?"

"Over there, to the attic of the old courthouse."

They all saw her arm raise, but it was too dark to see where she was pointing. They focused on staying on the narrow boards, and getting across air ducts and I.T. cages holding hundreds of miles of cables. The walkway arrived at a short wooden access door that opened into an attic. The attic space was lit by a couple light bulbs and large. They could see from where they stood several doors around them. Two were marked STAIRS, and one was marked JANITOR.

In a normal voice she told them, "This is the only part of the old courthouse that was kept. No one can hear you up here. Come on."

She led them across the expanse to one of the doors. There was a bright pink hand print on the door, about the size of a 10-year-old girl. Morgan produced a skeleton key and unlocked and opened the door. A breath of cool air rushed out at them. She walked inside, motioning them to follow.

"Last one in shut the door, otherwise it will get hot in here," Morgan told them.

The Wall Crew followed her in and bunched together as they assessed the room they had been brought. Morgan flopped into an oversized blue chair and watched them.

The room was twice as large as the old Wall had been. There was no writing on the wall, refrigerator, or microwave, but there was a motley collection of furniture. In the center of the room was an old wooden poker table that had worn felt. An unfinished card game coated with a fine layer of dust was on it. Throw rugs of varying stages of neglect covered the wood floor. The walls were just studs with no insulation and had various 90s posters tacked to them.

At the top of the wall that peaked with the roof was a grimy octagon window with lead framing and green-blue hued warped glass in it. It didn't. It looked out over the neighbors, not providing much of a view, and probably provided light during the day time. Right now, however, the light came from the dozen light bulbs on the high ceiling. The cages had been removed and lampshades replaced them.

"Is the way we came the only way up here?" Catherine asked.

"Nope. There are five ways, three of which you will definitely not be seen. That's one of those ways."

"Ecklie is going to be pissed if he finds out we started another Wall without him," Greg told them.

"Oh no!" Morgan sprang to her feet. "That is the only condition if you guys come up here; you are never, under any circumstances, even if it means life or death, to tell my father about this room. I have kept this place secret for seven years, so if you guys screw that up I will become your worst nightmare!"

Sara grinned at the others. "I think we just found a new Wall and Wall Crew member."

They agreed.

"But we have to fix the walls. We can't write rules that wood. We'll never see it," David pointed out.

Morgan sat n the arm of her chair. "I saw all that writing in there. What was the deal with that?"

The Wall Crew sat down around the room and began the story of The Wall – it's beginnings, it's trials, about the rules, why it meant so much to them. And when they finished, they were silent.

"Does anyone even remember what number we were on?" Nick asked.

Sara sat up straight. "Yes! Grissom kept a photo journal of the room and had me send photographs every time something new was added. I have it up to the week before last."

"Send me the photographs," Morgan told her.

"What for?"

Morgan shrugged. "I have a plan too. Now look, from experience I can tell you that the only time you can do anything noisy up here is late night Friday and Saturday. The administrative offices are below us so there's rarely anyone here then."

"We're the graveyard shift," Nick reminded her. "I'm sure that's not a problem."

"I'm not graveyard," Gina argued.

"You're just weird," Bobby told her.

She made a face at him, but then smiled.

The group began planning their renovations…

#

_AUTHORS NOTE: Nope. No rules this chapter. Those return in the next chapter! :-)_


	40. Sometimes Unilateral Action Is Required

40) Sometimes Unilateral Action Is Required

It was five hours into her shift and Sara was already having a horrible night. Following a long distance argument with Grissom, bad luck had followed her to work. She had dropped things, technology mocked her, suspects were unusually uncooperative and disrespectful, and now this. She sighed as she leaned against the back of the couch and glared at Hodges.

"Do I have to repeat myself?" Hodges asked with his usual arrogant air.

Tonight that air was enough to spark her anger with him. In her mind she was leaping from the couch and strangling his smug smile right off his face. In reality, she opted for a stiff lipped, "If you must."

"Hey, this is your case, Sara. I'm just doing my job."

"Yes, except you have interrupted me while doing your job nine times in two hours. I told you last week that from now on, don't bring results to me until you've completed everything so I don't have to keep going back and looking at everything a dozen times. You said okay."

"I can deliver my results as I see fit."

She stood up fast and he retreated back four steps. She shoved laptop, case files, and anything else that would fit in her backpack and walked off without a word.

"What about these results?"

"By the time you see me again you'll have _all_ of them ready."

She was surprised he didn't shout something immature and asinine back, but she was really glad he hadn't. She let out a breath as she walked through the halls to a janitor closet. She looked around to make sure she was alone and flashed her badge at the reader by the door. Sara let herself in and walked to the back to an old wooden door. She stepped into the narrow hallway behind it and walked to a vertical ladder a few feet down. The ladder rose through holes in the floors overhead, going the attic trap door four stories overhead.

Sara slid her pack on her back and climbed. She crawled through the trap door and quietly closed it behind her, enveloping herself in darkness. The only light in the room she was in came from a very dim strip of light from under the door ten feet to her left.

Using her hands to deflect her path through forgotten, dusty boxes she navigated her way to the door and slipped into the attic hallway. In the dim light she walked to the old door of the new Wall. She fished her keys from her jeans and slid the long, narrow skeleton key in the lock. Sara turned the lock and stepped into The Wall.

She froze, staring at D.B Russell with the same expression of surprise.

He sat at the recently reupholstered poker table with a large photo album. Morgan had a friend in Los Angeles who no one believed was as talented of a scrapbooker as Morgan claimed. They should have. The returned scrapbook was amazing and she had designed it so all they had to do was add photographs for another hundred pages. It was the perfect visual history of how The Wall from its dungeon-like first day to the initial first days on the attic.

But the room had taken on a comfortable loft appearance after a month of renovations. Nick had taught them how to install installation and drywall, and hang new light fixtures. They divided the walls space and each painted their wall a different color, making the room feel like the character from the basement had found its way into the attic. Henry and his younger brother, Jason, bought new furniture, area rugs, refrigerator, microwave, and television. A night two weeks ago Jason snuck and stenciled on his wall: The Wall Crew Chronicle. He hung framed photographs of The Crew as it had changed over the years. On each frame was a brass plaque that listed the month and year and everyone in the photograph.

The last touch was changing from chalk – after a long and sometimes heated discussion – to contrasting permanent markers. Over the last month this room had been filled with stories, laughter, and the magic of the Crew being together.

But now it was filled with silence as Sara and her new, and uninvited, boss stared at each other.

"I…" Russell smiled, lost it, smiled, and lost it again. "This is awkward."

Sara stared, not realizing she was actually glaring at him.

Quietly Russell added, "I probably shouldn't be in here."

Slowly her head shook – no he shouldn't be here. This was like finding an uninvited Riddler in the Bat Cave.

"So would this be…"

Sara didn't offer any suggestions.

"The Wall?" he asked.

She kept silent.

"Conrad told me about the other old one, so I assume this is the new one."

Sara's bad day just got worse. "Conrad sent you to find the other Wall? Great! And now you'll run and tell him. You know, D.B, since you—"

"I'm not telling him, Sara. I told him that the fallout between you and the… What did he call you guys…"

Sara offered no answer.

Russell smiled. "The Wall Crew. That's right. Well, that's something this Crew and he has to work out. I won't be a part of that."

"Then why are you here? And how did you even find it?"

"Oh, well, after Conrad told me about The Wall my intrigue was piqued. I couldn't leave it alone. So I observed – I noticed the code word changed from pineapple to whirlpool." He softly chuckled. "Conrad hasn't caught onto it yet."

Sara turned a step, looking into the hall. She was debating going back to the lab and telling The Crew they'd been discovered. She didn't wholly trust that Russell wouldn't tell Ecklie about the new Wall.

"On my child's future, Sara, I give you my word that I will tell anyone about The Wall."

She looked back at him. He was watching her, waiting for a response. And she knew he would wait for as long as it took to get one.

"You are incredibly…" She hesitated, deciding which word she wanted.

His eyebrows lifted a little, but he waited.

"Eccentric."

He smiled. "Yes. I'm told that often."

She shut the door, walked over to a chair at the table, and sat down, staring hard at him.

"You cannot let them know you know about this place, D.B. If The Crew finds out you know… Look, things are volatile right now. We're all trying to find our footing after the fallout, Ecklie tried to destroy the one thing that that kept us together."

"This club?"

"It's not a club."

"You have members. You invite them in, you kick them out. That's a club."

"We are not a club."

"Then what do you define it as?"

"A family. And Ecklie has always been on the verge of being estranged. He just pushed the right buttons this time."

"He was doing his job."

"He was being more of an ass than usual."

Russell sat back, staring at her. She stared back.

"Are you still clocked in?"

"Yes."

"Shouldn't you be working?"

"That's what I came up here to do. To get away from everyone who was pissing me off and work in peace. But I guess I can't even do that here, can I?"

Russell smiled again. "Having a rough night?"

She didn't answer. That was a stupid question.

He nodded at the unspoken. "I've had a few of those. Just make sure I get those reports turned in on time."

She didn't respond again. Russell leaned forward, closing the scrapbook. He patted the leather cover, and then looked up at her.

"I guess, from your comment, you have no intention of telling the Wall Crew I know."

"No."

He nodded. "Thank you, even if it wasn't for me that you're doing this for. But I do have to wonder if I'll ever be invited."

"When we vote on it, if we vote yes."

"And when does that happen?"

"After six months and when someone brings it up."

"So I have another five months to go."

She nodded.

"Why six months?"

She shrugged. "How did you get in here? The door is always locked."

"It's a skeleton key lock, Sara. I have a whole box of skeleton keys at home."

She nodded. Finding skeleton keys for the crew hadn't been difficult.

Russell got up and walked over to the wall that had of rules were started on. "Conrad explained the rules for the rules. I assume these are continuing from the previous Wall?"

She nodded when he looked at her. He smiled, looking back at them.

"What…" He turned to her. "Tell me about them."

She stared at him.

"Is that not okay to ask?" he asked.

She looked at the scrapbook. She pulled it too her, flipping a couple pages. She knew he sat down in the chair next to her and was watching her, but she didn't speak right away. He waited.

Sara was surprised when a tear slid down her cheek. She hastily wiped it away.

"Do you fight with your wife?" she asked.

She liked sidelong at him. He smiled and nodded.

"Oh yes. Although the older we've gotten the further apart they've been."

She looked away when more tears came. "I miss my husband. I wish he were home."

"How long as he been gone?"

She wiped her tears and answered, "It's been eight months this time. Today we got into a fight about when I walked this dog. He's half way around the world and we're fighting over video chat about when his dog goes out."

"Oh, well, I'm sure as a dog-parent he didn't quite see it the same way as you the step-dog-parent did. I'm sure the fight will be forgotten by the next time you talk to him."

She laughed at his references. "He'll laugh when I tell him you said that."

"So will my wife. Conrad told me that the Crew believes The Wall has magical powers to heal the emotional pain and right human trespasses. And then he claimed he didn't believe that."

"He does too. He is such a jerk."

"He's a hurting human being. That makes anyone a jerk."

She looked at Russell. He was looking at the table or scrapbook – she couldn't tell which.

"I know he's your boss but you're not going to earn many points by defending him all the time."

"I'm not defending him. I'm just pointing out the root of the problem." He stood, walking to the wall again. "Now, about these rules. You have to tell me what they're about."

"Give me your word you won't use it against anyone. I'm serious. They will be angry if they know you know about The Wall before they trust you."

"I promise, Sara. What is said at The Wall stays at The Wall."

She nodded.

"So tell me about 437 up there."

He turned a chair so he could sit and see the rules. Sara turned in her chair to do the same.

* * *

**437. I'm not allowed to use the labs computers to see if my significant other is cyber dating. (Inspired by csiFreak24) (_Hodges__' __handwriting_)**

* * *

"Hodges was caught doing that," she told him.

"Hodges is dating?"

"No. There was a lab tech that used to work here that he was crazy about, but she left and he's been awkward about it since."

"Awkward about it. I like that. He's an awkward kind of guy, isn't he?"

"He has his glowing moments."

Russell laughed.

* * *

**438. The following are forbidden to be used for any reason in the lab: roller blades, bicycles, skateboards, heelys, Pogo Sticks, roller skates, jump ropes, scooters, tricycles, miniature motor cycles, box cars, cleats, and ice skates. (Inspired by Augusta) (_Catherine__'__s__handwriting_)**

* * *

"I recognize that one. Nick and Greg were in the hall trying to prove a skateboard accident wasn't an accident, and then I caught Henry and that tech guy…" Russell snapped his fingers as he tried to remember the name.

"Archie?"

"Yes. He and Henry were doing the same thing with bicycles. But isn't that Catherine's handwriting."

Sara smiled. With a shrug she told him, "You can take the supervisor position away from the supervisor, but you can't take the supervisor out of the woman. Trust me; those others were very much needed. We've had all sorts of crazy things happen with the other ones."

"Jump ropes and ice skates?"

"Yeah."

"So tell me, which people are these rules usually written for?

"It's a combination, actually. Never put Nick, Greg, and Henry, or Henry and Hodges, or all of our boys, together on one case or with the same day off. There are usually calls to the Sheriff or Mayor involved."

"I've heard Nick and Greg can be a disaster together."

"There are occasions, but not every time they're together. Those other combinations are more dangerous."

Russell laughed. "I will keep that in mind."

* * *

**439.** "**My underlings are writing it" is the wrong answer to give a supervisor when he or she asks where my report is. (Inspired by CherryBerryB) (_Greg__'__s__Handwriting_)**

* * *

"Greg told me that," Russell said, smiling. "And I didn't think he took me serious when I told him not to ever say that to me again."

"Greg sees and hears everything. The problem is once in a while his age kicks in."

"Ah… Aren't you two close to the same age?"

"Girls mature faster than boys." She grinned.

Russell smiled and nodded. "How forgetful of me. Of course."

* * *

**440. In every organization there will always be one person who knows what is going on. This person must be fired. (_Gina__'__s__handwriting_)**

* * *

"Gina was very angry when Conrad fired her temp helper," Sara explained. "She said the boy learned the job in two days and was great eye candy."

Russell nodded. "I don't know Gina yet."

"You will."

* * *

**441. Your name is not Chuck, you do not have the Intercept uploaded to your head, your girlfriend will never be that hot, and your co-worker is not an undercover operative with a wicked trigger finger who likes bonsai trees. (_Henry__'__s__Handwriting_)**

* * *

"I have no idea what that's referencing, but it probably some pop culture show the lab rats all TiVo and talk about."

"You're not big on television?"

"I prefer books."

"So do I."

* * *

**442. It may not be the best form to use the rural slang, "How now brown cow?" in the presence of a female African-American visiting from a large metropolis. (_Greg__'__s__handwriting_)**

* * *

Sara laughed. "Remember that hotel theft two weeks ago involving the couple from New York?"

"The lesbians?"

"Yes. And the one was a really tall African-American."

Russell remembered.

"Well, Greg comes bouncing into the room, didn't see the two, and blurts that. This woman thought it was an insult and goes after him, chasing him into a shower with a half door. It took four officers and her girlfriend to pull her away so he could escape."

"Is that why he traded with Morgan?"

"Yes. I thought he was going to pee his pants he looked so scared."

Russell chuckled. "I guess he'll be more careful."

"This is Greg Sanders we're talking about. The only CSI to almost be strangled, shot at, beat up, and nearly had his wrist slit, all in one night. The universe has it out for him."

Russell laughed.

* * *

**443. When an onlooker keeps bugging you for a picture, it is bad to show them as much skin as legally possible. (_Morgan__'__s__handwriting_)**

* * *

"Morgan told us it's about an incident back in Los Angeles, and she refused to elaborate beyond the incident resulted in producers calling to cast her in a porn movie."

"Oh my. I hope she doesn't try whatever it was here."

"I think it's out of her system now."

* * *

**444. When the break room microwave dies, I will not use the Bunsen burners to reheat my frozen burrito or dinner. (_Hodges__' __handwriting_)**

* * *

"Is, uhm… That's Hodges' handwriting, isn't it?" Russell asked.

Sara nodded. "It is."

"I know I shouldn't be, but it surprises me when I see I am listened to."

"You're the one that got after him about that? I couldn't figure out why he wrote that, since we've…" Sara stopped and smiled. "Well, we've never complained.

"You've used the Bunsen burners for your dinner too?"

She looked away, still smiling.

"Well, from what I understand, what happened to make a rule to be written cannot be repeated."

She shrugged. "But we can bend them."

Russell smiled. "I'll have to keep a close eye on this Wall Crew."

* * *

**445. If your largest piece of evidence it the ugliest piece of artwork in a gallery, you can be guaranteed of three things: it is heavy, it is worth millions of dollars, and the only court judge that can be reached for a warrant will be a collector of the artist and make you sign your job away if you damage the piece. (_Nick__'__s__handwriting_)**

* * *

"Nick's find at that art exhibit?" Russell asked. "Is that why he became so discontent right before we moved the piece to the lab?

Sara nodded. "When he called for the warrant, it became a pretty heated conversation because the judge's wife thought this artist was just _amazing_. Personally, aside from the evidence we needed from the blocks of cement, it looked like junk to me too."

"Art is a very subjective topic for most people."

"You were there. Did you think it was art?"

"Well, I tell ya what… I think that it could have been. For someone."

"Was that the politically correct _no_?"

"Perhaps it was. This last one here. I don't recognize that handwriting."

* * *

**446. If a suspect with children makes me angry, it is bad of me to feed the children a pound of sugar before releasing them back into their parent's custody. (_Brass__' __handwriting_)**

* * *

"That's Jim Brass."

"Oh? He's part of this group?"

"Yes."

"And what happened?"

"The father was a suspect in a road rage case, and he was really ticking Brass off. So every time he went out for a breather, he'd give the kid a Mountain Dew. By the time they left, the kid had drunk eight Mountain Dew cans, was talking four hundred miles a minute, hopping everywhere, and peeing every ten minutes."

Russell laughed. "I find that quite amusing. Does Brass have children?"

"A daughter, but she's in Los Angeles and they don't speak."

"Well, then, no one can say Brass new better than to give a child that many sodas, could they?"

Sara laughed and shook her head.

Russell heaved a sigh and stood up. "Well, thank you for sharing the stories behind the rules."

"You can't come back, D.B. Not until they invite you."

"If I do, I'll make sure no one ever knows." He winked as he walked past her.

"No. I'm serious. I—"

"Be sure to get your work done while you're up here, Sara. Have a good night."

The door shut with a soft click. She held her breath, listening to his footsteps fade away. A door opened, closed, and there was silence. She smiled, looking up at the rules. She knew how she was going to vote when the Crew decided to whether D.B. Russell was going to be included.

Sara turned around, opened her laptop, and went back to work.


End file.
